


Let's Flay: The Plaything Series

by MarsMars



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Also lots of cursing, Blood and Violence, Dysfunctional Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Female Pronouns for Reader, Non-Consensual Touching, The twins don't know the meaning of personal space, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-02-18 16:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 269,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18702931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsMars/pseuds/MarsMars
Summary: Life in Promethea has always been harsh with its wildlife, friends are difficult to come by, and the inevitable fate of dying at the end of a gun barrel were the realities you faced each day. You tried to make the best of it but everything crumbles down when the Children of the Vault destroy what shred of hope you had for a good life.(Or how the Calypsos became your #1 fans)





	1. Red

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the longest I’ve ever written... Please enjoy. This has been stuck in my head after the reveal of the Calypso twins personalities. A lot of writing errors, oops.
> 
> As always, not beta-read. 
> 
> Found also in MarsMaru tumblr.

The scorching heat suffocated you, burning and irritating your skin. You swigged some water from your canteen, pouring the rest over your head to cool down. It helped a little as you hammered down on your work in progress bandit technical, adding new specs to boost the life expectancy of the vehicle’s machine gun after your “buddies” jammed it up in their latest raid. 

Your hair stuck to your face, mixed with sweat and evaporating water. With grease covered hands, you tuck the loose hair in under your red bandana sporting a white skull. The canteen remained forgotten on a beaten down chair on top of a brown leather jacket with the embroidered “Skullmashers.”

You were a bandit. 

Life was harsh in Promethea, safety was found in the remote camps that were scattered around the planet. Your luck pushed you to a bandit one. With little choices to pick, you managed to find a decent camp that at least had a population with working brain cells. The Skullmashers were notorious for being brutal and bloodthirsty, but during your stay, you found out they were actually ‘nice’ by bandit standards. 

Other bandits would have had you staked in front of their camp as a warning to bypassers or potential looters. Your life prior to the Skullmashers was a scavenger, nearly got you killed when you tried to steal weapon parts from one of their outposts. However, when the bandit leader noticed your working loader bots and bandit technical, you scored a ‘job’ as their mechanic.

Which has led to your current predicament: getting the machine gun of the bandit technical to work.

You made a mental note to throttle the individual who thought it was a great idea to shove a midget into the ammo compartment. Cleaning the compartment of entrails and skull bits was a too much for your standards of mechanic work. 

“Knock, knock! Coming through!” 

You glanced up, annoyance bubbling up. A bruiser came in carrying a crate, dropping it on the garage floor. Growling, you jumped off the technical, walking inside, “What is it this time? Another midget got stuck in the trash compactor?”

“Hehehe, no, but that would be awesome,” the bruiser responded, taking out gun parts from inside the crate, placing them on the work bench, “the boss wants these on the technical pronto.”

You grabbed some of the parts, shocked, “What the hell? These are Maliwan! Where did you get them?” Maliwan specialized in elemental weapons, very popular but rare to find on trash piles in the wastes.

“From the last raid,” the bruiser set out more weapon parts, pushing your gear and car parts off the bench, cutting the chat short. You hummed, nodding. Don’t want to step on anyone’s toes. Even if they ruin your work area.

“I’ll see what I can do, tell the boss I’ll be needing extra time. I’m still finding the midget’s bones,” you informed, observing the Maliwan parts. From what you could see, all parts were for corrosive type. 

The bruiser grunted, exiting the shop, slamming the door. You rolled your eyes, used by now on how rough the bandits were. Friends were difficult to come by, not that you had any here in the camp. You were fine with it, there was always the risk of getting stabbed, literary, on the back over a simple poker game. 

Eyeing the mess the bruiser made, you sighed, picking up the clutter. With the new parts, you were going to request a payment of rakk-ale for the trouble of updating the machine gun. As you cleaned up your garage, a loud bang followed by popping noises caused you to jump. 

“Uh, that’s not normal…” you wondered out loud, still holding on to a rope of chains, running outside the garage. You were able to observe the entrance of the camp was on fire, projectiles raining on the huts. Cursing under your breath, you immediately booked it to the main square of the camp, noticing the rest of the bandits running towards the entrance, guns ready. 

“Don’t let them in boys!” a nomad yelled, the midget stuck to his shield squealing about bloodshed. You took out your gun, a Jakobs revolver you managed to salvage from your scavenger days, ready for action. Having lived outside in the wilderness, you learned the hard way of protecting yourself with and without a gun. 

A marauder took cover next to you, shaking a bit, “I can’t believe they are here…”

“Who?” you asked, “No one comes to attack us!”

“The Children of the Vault,” he whispered, “The boss raided one of their outposts!”

Ah shit, you thought. You weren’t too familiar with them, avoiding the CoV outposts and tuning out their ‘holy’ broadcasts, but were aware that the cult had a massive army of bandits. 

“Hey there, couldn’t help but notice that you TOOK something from us!”

A woman’s voice rang across the area, a chill running down your spine. She sounded amused, but pissed. A fine art to pull off. 

A bandit technical rolled up near you, the bandit leader jumping off it, a large rocket launcher in his hands, “I was waiting for you Calypsos to show up! You’ve been encroaching into MY territory!”

Laughter was heard, “I was being merciful, you denied my offer. Prepare to PAY with your life!”

More explosions went off by the entrance and around the camp, a large group of psychos barging in with grenades in their hands. They were followed by larger bruises decked out in armor and flamethrowers.

“LAY WASTE TO THEM!” the Skullmasher bandit leader yelled, firing his rocket launcher. The nomads roared, leading the Skullmasher bandits into the fray. You peeked out of your cover zone, shooting at the invaders before following the others. All around guts, blood, body parts flew around. Grenades of all kinds plowed through the crowd. 

You thanked your past self for fixing up the Hyperion shield, utilizing the amp shot for quick kills. With ammo scarce, you switched between the Jakobs revolver and the chains you dragged along from your garage to whip the enemy. The adrenaline coursing through your system numbed you from the gashes and close calls from bullets.

This was bandit life. Rival factions duking it out for control over the land. Your luck ran out today, might as well go down fighting.

You amassed several kills, your face and hands bloody and bruised from punching the living days out of the CoV psychos. Looking around, you noticed that there were more cultists than your bandit buddies. Dread was slowly taking over you.

“Haha, looks like you won’t be needing those Maliwan parts after all, you know, being dead and all,” the woman’s voice taunted, “Troy go finish them.”

“Always cleaning up after you,” another voice rang, masculine. There was a brief pause before struggling was heard and the sound cut off. 

The bandit leader, exhausted and weary, called for formation around him. As of the one of the few left, you quickly congregated towards him, gun out. All around were bodies of your bandit buddies, some completely unidentifiable. 

“So this is it, what’s left,” the bandit leader coughed out, “those damn cult scum… You, mechanic, do you have it with you?”

You nodded, keeping your gun steady, “I do, sir. Just give me the signal.”

“Not yet, I want them both here,” he replied, wiping the blood off his face, “If we manage to pull this through, I will get you all rakk-ale.” He was meet with approving mumbling. You didn’t buy it. 

‘I’m going to die here today, I had a good run,’ you thought, gripping tightly your gun. From a distance, your group noticed a tall man approaching, blazing sword over his shoulder and a stupid grin on his face. He laughed at the sight of you and the rest of the bandits.

“This is what’s left? You got to be joking. Not worth my time, Ty,” he stated, bringing his blade down, “but I’ve been itching to maim some bodies, exercise is good for the body, you know?”

“There won’t be anything left of your body when we are through with you, Troy Calypso!” the bandit leader yelled, pointing his rocket launcher at him. You and the others aimed at Troy. The taller man barked out laughing, slightly crouching. His face was adorned with a slasher smile. 

“So cute, very cute, had you accepted Ty’s offer, you could have been the court jester!” Troy yelled, running towards your group, blade up, “Fucking hilarious!”

The bandit leader fired his rocket, quickly moving aside to avoid the blade as you and the others started shooting at Troy. He used his blade to shield from the rocket’s impact, grunting before lunging his blade at the bandits. You dodged the blade, aiming directly at his face only to be met by his boot on your stomach, kicking you away.

Grunting, you threw a punch to his throat, though he caught it, swung you and tossed you aside before heading towards the bandit leader. You cursed, spitting out blood as you lunged at him, jumping on his back. 

“What the hell man, you are going to ruin my jacket!” Troy growled, turning and trying to grab you off his back with his mechanical arm. The bandit leader took opportunity to jab Troy on the face several times, knocking him backwards. You quickly jumped off from Troy, resuming in shooting him. It took you a while to notice that only you and the bandit leader were left, the bodies of the remaining battle buddies sliced through.

“Damn you!” Troy cursed out, sucker punching the bandit leader, turning his attention to you, meeting your fist on his lower jaw, causing it to unhinge.

“What the fuck!” you shouted, stepping back, quickly aiming at him, “That’s not normal!”

Troy grabbed his loose jaw, moving it a up before popping it back in, “A magician never shows his tricks!” You shot several times, Troy lifting his mechanical arm to block the bullets, causing some of them to ricochet off. The bandit leader aimed again at Troy, this time with a shotgun, spraying the area with bullets. You yelped as one of the bullets grazed your leg, glaring at the bandit leader. You rolled away, intent on stepping aside to inspect your wound as your bandit leader fought off Troy.

“You bandits are a weird lot, but I admire your tenacity, makes killing you all more exciting!” Troy barked out, swinging his blade down, cutting into the bandit leader’s shoulder. The latter howled out in pain, pumping out the shotgun onto Troy who barely flinched. The taller man grabbed the bandit leader’s head with his mechanical hand, crushing it.

“No!” You yelled, shooting at Troy from behind. Troy staggered a bit, dumping the body aside to face you, “That wasn’t nice.”

Ignoring the pain of your injured leg, you kept shooting, Troy absorbing the bullets as he walked towards you. A few clicks and you were out of ammo, Troy laughing at this, “No more shots and you are the last one standing.”

You patted down your pockets for anything extra to use besides the metal chains, but everything was left behind in your garage, weapon wise. Whistling, you hoped it reached the ears of help. Troy paused, looking around, “The fuck are you whistling for?”

A deep rumbling sounded off by your garage, the roof collapsing as two loader bots broke free, merging from the debris. The robots had been spray painted with the Skullmasher’s motif, sporting launchers on their shoulders. You had been planning to present these to the bandit leader for not killing you years ago. Well, he was gone.

“Sic’em boys!” you yelled, whistling a little tune. The loader bots mimicked the tune, “Engaging target, trash man target acquired.”

“Trash man?! Do I look like a trash man to you!” Troy asked, steadying his blade, “To think you are a magician as well, neat trick, but it won’t work on me!”

The bots launched rockets, one of them dispensing a weapon to throw it at you. Joining them, you shot Troy at his feet to stumble off his balance. With a large arm he sported, you concluded it was your best bet to defeat him. Troy took a rocket to the face, his shield taking the damage. He cackled as he swung down at you, his blade meeting one of the bot’s arms. You took the chance to punch him on the face for the earlier kick to the stomach. 

He growled, holding his bleeding nose, “You dirty bitch!” He abandoned his blade, instead lunging towards you, knocking you into concrete slabs. A sharp pain traveled up your spine as you bit back a scream. A bot grabbed Troy, producing shock currents, causing him to keel over you. You proceed to jab and punch him, ignoring the shocks you were receiving. 

Troy remained immobile during your assault before he attempted to reach behind for the bot. The other bot pressed forward, producing several metal rods to impale Troy, keeping him pinned to the ground. You stood up, delivering a hard kick to his face again. 

“You… will..” Troy muttered out, the shocks increasing. You were catching your breath, steadying yourself against a broken-down pole. 

“Not today, asshole,” you said, spitting out blood that landed near him. You were gambling on the bots since they weren’t finished but you were happy that the Hyperion energy cores were functional to produce shock attacks. You gazed around, bodies of the cultists and of your bandit buddies everywhere. Not too long ago, you were yelling at them for the bandit technical getting jammed up.

Now you were the last one standing.

A slow clap brought you back to your senses. You quickly turned to see a white-haired woman, wearing a regal-like jacket approaching you and Troy. She stopped a few feet away.

“I have to say that was a splendid performance!” she chirped, “I think you are the only woman who has ever pinned down Troy, and that’s saying something.”

Troy tried to say something, but was met with more shock from the bots. You growled. The bandit leader was expecting someone else to go along with Troy, but he laid in pieces and you were worn out from the fight with Troy.

The woman held out her arm, a surveyor that had been following her perched on it, “Did you get everything Mouthpiece?”

“Yes, Lady Tyreen, we are racking up views on this!”

The hell were they talking about? Movement by the bots alerted you of trouble. Troy ripped through the rods, destroying the bot that created them. You whistled at the other one to let go, it quickly went to your side. 

“You seriously showing everyone getting my ass beat?” Troy asked, dusting off the bot’s parts and rods from him. 

‘He’s not normal… The bots delivered a high voltage on him!’ you thought. You watched as Troy walked to the woman, slightly punching her on the arm.  
“How rude, Tyreen,” Troy said, making way to pick up his blade. Tyreen chuckled, letting the surveyor take off before turning her attention to you, “My, my. What’s a doll like you doing in a bandit camp like this? Those bots are cute.”

“Shut your trap!” you hissed out, your remaining bot locking on them, “You’re going to pay for killing them!”

Tyreen shook her head, “They got what they deserved, stealing from us means death.” She raised her left arm, giving you a glimpse of her Siren tattoos. Your eyes widen, anger swelling up. 

“You… you are a monster!” you yelled, throwing a large piece of concrete slab at her. This took her by surprise, negating her Siren ability as Troy jumped in front of her, shielding her from the attack. When the dust cleared, Troy was met with a whip from your chain, knocking him over to the side. 

“Troy!” Tyreen yelled, barely dodging the bot charging at her. You hissed out, bringing back the chain to lunge once again at Troy and Tyreen. The latter took out her gun, shooting at the chain. Troy was bleeding from a large gash on his forehead, growling as his jaw slowly unhinged. 

“Enough games, I’m going to kill her!” Troy roared, his jaw splitting open. The bot shot projectiles at Troy while you swung your chain at Tyreen. This further infuriated Troy, who grabbed the bot, crushing one of its legs. The bot ripped its own arm to turn it into a rod, jumping on one leg to attack Troy. 

“No!” You lunged forward towards Troy, only to freeze in your spot. Your insides felt on fire, your throat closing up as you gasped for air. You were certain this was Tyreen’s doing.

“How adorable, you are willing to risk your life for a piece of junk?” 

Tyreen’s voice echoed from behind you. You watched helplessly as Troy destroyed the bot, punching it into pieces, tears stinging your eyes. Troy walked up to you, kicking you again on the stomach. You landed on the dirt, curling up in pain. Tyreen and Troy hovered over you.

You growled, glaring at Tyreen, “You monster. To think there is more of you around…” Tyreen raised an eyebrow curious, “That’s a first. Never been called a monster before.” Troy kicked you again.

Tyreen deactivated her powers, “It would be a shame to kill you, you have a lot of potential.” She caressed your cheek, pulling away when you attempted to bite her. She smirked at this.

“Let’s just end her and go home, its starting to stink here,” Troy whined. Tyreen straightened up, hands on her hips, “We are taking her with us, pick her up, Troy.” 

Your senses kicked into overdrive as you reached into your leather pouch, retrieving a denotator. The twins looked down at you, eyes wide. 

“The hell you are!” you yelled, pressing the button on the denotator. All around the camp explosions went off, nearing your area. 

“Oh, you are funny,” Tyreen said, a flash of white and red overtaking her and Troy. You welcomed the embrace of death. 

 

\--00—0-0-0-0

Pain coursed through your body as the heat of the explosions burned bits of your skin, then came relief. You felt light. Was this death? The stories of near-death experiences described pearly gates or a whorehouse waiting for the dead bandits. You weren’t sure which one you wanted.

You struggled to look around, your surroundings dark. Reaching out, your hands met bars.

You were caged. 

Panic rose in you as you reached out again, confirming your fears. You shook the cage, yelling, “Get me out of here! GET ME OUT!” You were sure the explosions had been powerful enough to kill you, but if you were alive, that meant _they_ were too. 

A soda can hit you on the head, grumbling from your left alerting you of another presence. 

“Shut up, be grateful that the Twin Gods have bestowed favor on you, bandit,” a marauder with the CoV helmet emerged from the corner, gun steady, “I would shoot you right now, but I like to keep my skin on.”

“Shoot me you cult freak! Anywhere is better than with you lot!” you yelled back, growling. The marauder sighed in frustration, approaching you, “You are not my boss, but keep it down. The Twin Gods don’t like it when we have rowdy passengers.”

You hissed, causing the marauder to step back. You stumbled forward as the vehicle you were both in stopped, the back doors opening. The harsh light of day blinded you, as you tried to adjust your eyesight. Troy was grinning at you, still bruised up from your skirmish with him.

“Sup, thought you had seen the last of me?” he teased, grabbing the cage out of the vehicle, “Welcome to your new home!” You held on to the bars as he jerked the cage a bit, laughing. You quickly looked around to see that you were inside a sprawling compound: The Children of the Vault’s main hub. Troy placed you on top of a cart, pushing it towards a group of cultists sporting crimson robes, faces covered, “A new delivery, please see that she is vetted and full checked. This will please the God’s Queen herself.”

“Yes, sir,” they bowed, pushing the cart into a warehouse. You had remained quiet during the transition, trying to process what had occurred. You were sure you were going to perish in the bandit camp, attempting to kill the Calypsos like your now dead bandit leader had instructed. Now you were a prisoner of theirs. 

Someone grabbed you out of the cage, pushing you to stand up. You counted five individuals, the sixth one still holding on to your arm. Two of them approached, pulling at your clothes. You quickly pushed them off.

“Get away from me!” you growled, keeping steady. You were still exhausted from the fight. 

“We are to clean your wounds and change your clothes, the God’s Queen will be displeased if you are not presented well for her,” one of them stated, almost in a robotic tone. Another one approached from behind, locking their arms around you as the others went in to pull of your clothing. You struggled, hissing and trying to bite at them. They paid no attention, seemingly used to this interaction. You were ushered into a tub already filled with water, its surface slightly pink and a sweet aroma wafted through the area.

You were half expecting frigid, cold water, but your body welcomed the warm, aromatic bath, your muscles becoming loose. The robed cultists took their time to thoroughly wash you, from head to toe, and massaged ointments on your bruises and cuts. Your brain screamed for you to run, your body relishing this newfound sensation of bliss. Struggling to keep awake, a robed cultist splashed cold water on you, causing you to hiss. 

After the bath, you were dried and your cuts cleaned and bandaged off. The cultists dressed you in a loose, crimson robe matching theirs, except for a lone embroidered ‘C’ on the bottom part of it. You were led to another room where a hot meal awaited you, your stomach growling at the sight of it. You eyed it cautiously.

“It’s not poisoned,” one of the cultists replied, pushing a goblet of ale towards you, “Eat.”

You snorted, unconvinced but your hunger overtook you as you dug in, scarfing down the food and drinking the ale. Your taste buds went crazy at how fatty and juicy the meats were, how the food actually tasted from something alive rather than decayed flesh out in the wastes. With table manners out of the way, you finished the food, sheepishly looking down at the mess you made. The cultists made no comment about it, simply cleaning and setting out another plate and refilling your goblet. 

“What’s this?” you finally asked. A slice of white bread coated with exotic fruit laid pretty on the plate. 

“A gift from the God’s Queen. She wishes for you to enjoy it,” someone answered, pushing the plate closer to you.

You sneered at the mention of the God’s Queen, but decided to indulge in this ‘weird’ food. If you weren’t in company, you’d moan loudly. The sweet taste of the fruit was driving your brain crazy, completely shutting its ‘need to escape’ messages. You ate the bread as civilized as you could, finishing off the ale. 

You watched as the cultists removed the plates, cleaning the table. Ushered out of your chair, they led you out of the room, down a brightly lit corridor. You took opportunity to watch outside at the compound. Cultists roamed the streets, life bustling without a care in the world. The Children of the Vault’s safe haven. 

While your bandit buddies laid rotting back in the Skullmasher’s camp and you were a prisoner. Your loader bots smashed to pieces. 

The cultists paused in front of a large door, covered in graffiti and renderings of the Calypsos. No one knocked, though the doors opened, two badass psychos at each side, allowing the group in. Up ahead in a raised platform was Tyreen lounging on a lavish throne, decked out with speakers and monitors on the sides. She perked up at the sight of you.

“My little doll, you are here!” she jumped off the platform, making her way towards you. She looked unscathed from your attempt to kill her with explosions.

“Did you enjoy my little gift?” she asked, smiling. You didn’t want to humor her, replying flatly, “No.”

She smirked, reaching out to wipe a piece of fruit off the corner of your mouth, licking and eating it, “Ah, no need to lie, I have a sweet tooth as well.” She walked back towards the platform, bringing up a hologram screen to view for all. You glanced backwards, mentally cursing at the sight of the badass psychos. Part of you wanted to bail out and test your luck, but you were in tight quarters to fight against a Siren and her cultists.

“Look here, this is where you will be living,” Tyreen explained, pointing at a housing complex, “I made sure you have access to the mechanic shop, you will work there.” She brought up more holograms, showcasing the large warehouse, “we got a lot of robotics for you to work on as well tuning up our vehicles.”

You stared at her, unamused, narrowing your eyes, “I refuse.” One of the cultists tugged at your arm harshly, causing you to grunt in pain from your injuries. 

Tyreen shook her head, waving off at the cultist grabbing your arm, “No need for that, let her go.” They obeyed, bowing their head to her. You felt sick. 

She approached again, intending to reach out with her Siren arm when you slapped it away. Collective gasps were heard around the room as the cultists all grabbed you, one of them kneeing you on back of your legs. You hissed out in pain, glaring up at Tyreen. She didn’t seem displeased, but a playful smirk adorned her face. 

“Very feisty, I love that,” she purred, placing her hand under your chin, lifting it up more, “I will let this transgression slip, any more and I will show you how merciful I can get.”

You growled, “I refuse to kneel for a monster like you, Siren!” She raised an eyebrow, “You sound like you’ve met another Siren other than me, interesting. Pray tell, who was it?”

You spat at her feet, earning a slap from Tyreen. She pulled hard at your hair, “I asked you a question.” You kept glaring, refusing to respond, earning another slap from her. She held your head between her hands, her tattoos glowing eerily, a devilish look on her face. The same sensation from the fight resurfaced, you felt your blood boiling up as you let out a whine. It didn’t help you had eaten prior to this. Tyreen ceased, letting go as you slumped forward.

“Take her to the housing complex and inform her of what is to be expected of her here with us,” Tyreen ordered, waving them off. The cultists bowed, all of them picking you up with ease. You were half-dazed, trying to look up before exhaustion took over. 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

Your body felt heavy, aching with pain as the medicinal ointment’s effect wore off. Opening your eyes, you caught sight of your surroundings. You were no longer inside Tyreen’s throne room, but now inside a hut, light shining through the tattered curtains. Sitting up, you rubbed your head, feeling the lingering sting of Tyreen’s slap. Mentally cursing at her, you stood up, intent on exploring your new house. 

Where you were currently at was the small bedroom: the bed you were on was large enough only for one person, you were surprised to find it cushioned, next to it was a small night stand with a small oil lamp, on the other side of the room was a small dresser where several changes of clothes had been placed. The door next to it led to a bathroom with a shower stall, toilet and sink. Curious, you flushed the toilet, jumping back when WATER actually drained out the contents. That was a first.

You exited the bedroom, freezing in your tracks when you say Troy Calypso laying down on the worn-out couch in your living room area, waving at you. “How is it going? I sent away those robed bastards, figured I’d be the one to show you around,” he grinned, giving you a glimpse of his sharp teeth. He was no longer bloody, having changed clothes and cleaned up, the bruises still present.

“How long have you been here?” you asked, fear slowly creeping up. The bandits respected your boundaries back in the camp. Here, you had meet grabby hands. Troy appeared offended.

“Hey, don’t lump with that type,” he growled up, sitting up, “Tidy up, we have a long tour to go on.” You jumped a bit, nodding, walking back to your bedroom. You made a mental note to check if the hut at least had working locks. Rummaging through the new clothes provided, you changed to a red, long sleeve shirt and green cargo pants, grateful that at least you were given a pair of combat steel-toed boots. You tore a piece of the robe you were wearing previously to tie up your hair, your bandana long gone. 

When you stepped out, Troy whistled, looking up and down at you. You glared. “Ah, my apologies, didn’t meant for that,” he insisted, motioning you to follow him. Complying with his order, you walked by his side, glancing once in a while at him.

“You really put up a good a fight, the other bandits not so much,” he said, attempting at conversation. You refrained from responding, anger swelling up in you. 

Troy showed you the area of the housing complex you resided, informing that those with “high standing” in the cult were allowed to live there. You didn’t bother asking why you were there, the welcoming by Tyreen was enough for an answer. As both of you entered the main central area of the hub, you noticed other cultists and bandits steering clear from you or rather Troy. Some fell to their knees in reverence, others shouted praises with fists up in the air while others fainted on the spot. Troy laughing, waving at the people around. He was relishing every moment of it. If your looks could kill, he’d would’ve been dead by now. You picked on hushed voices of questions about you.

“This area is where all members of the Children of the Vault congregate, the loudspeakers here inform of the current events and announcements. Mouthpiece delivers it, you’ll be able to hear him from your complex. Sermons are conducted in the church,” Troy pointed at a large building up a head from you two, sporting large statues and relief work of the Calypsos, “you are required to attend at least one sermon per week, no cheating, we will find out!”

You nodded. He led you inside the church where several psychos were kneeling, chanting praises. You were dumbfounded when you stared up at the large stained window, mesmerized by its colors. The window depicted Tyreen and Troy with a group of bandits on the bottom. They really pulled off this whole God image. Troy ushered you towards the altar where a large man wearing similar crimson robes, same as the cultists that welcomed you, but with an intricate coat and a psycho mask on. 

“Father Troy, welcome back. I hear the raid was successful,” the man stated, looking down at you, “Oh, a new member? Welcome, child.”

Troy laughed, “Very explosive, right?” He turned to face you, gently elbowing you on the side. You didn’t budge.

“Good news all around, those heathens got what they deserved,” the robed man replied, earning a hiss from you, “Oh?”

“Don’t mind her, she’s Tyreen’s- you know,” Troy made an off-hand motion, the robed man stood erect in the spot.

“Oh! My apologies,” the man bowed at you, “I wasn’t aware of this, please forgive me.” You stepped back, hiding slightly behind Troy who laughed more. These cultists were difficult to read. Troy slapped your back causing you to gag. 

“Sermons get a bit crazy at night, so I suggest coming by in the morning, everyone is nursing off a hangover, including this guy!” Troy smacked the robed man, who laughed as well. You remained quiet. The taller man waved goodbye to the priest, nudging you to follow him, complying. You two made several stops to a large soup kitchen, makeshift recreation area with impaled bandits for target practice, a questionable clinic, and small shops that sold gear and rare weapon parts, courtesy of Maliwan. The same ones that got your bandit buddies killed.

Near the weapon shops was the familiar warehouse Tyreen had shown you earlier: the mechanic shop. Outside was littered with vehicle parts, tires, and busted cars. You were thrown back to your garage. You made your way in, forgetting that Troy was in the middle of an explanation. Inside the garage were vehicle lifts, sleek welding tools, and different kinds of technicals waiting to be worked on. You hopped over, picking up tools to check them out, excitement rushing through you. You were only able to salvage so much from the wastes to use with the Skullmashers, but here, it seemed they had decent, working tools. Broken robot pieces were stashed in a corner of the warehouse, perhaps there was a way to create new bots.

“For a moment I thought you hauled ass out of here, but here you are, getting turned on by vehicle parts, you are one weird mechanic,” Troy announced himself, walking in to see you skipping about the warehouse, “Huh, well, you’ve been assigned as a mechanic for both the vehicles and whatever other robotics we got going on.” You ignored him, focusing on the robot parts you were rummaging through.

He squatted next to you, observing. This ticked you off, but once again, refrained from snapping. Tyreen’s little slap still fresh on your mind and you were recovering from your injuries. Troy kept quiet, a pensive expression on his face, nodding slowly. 

“Hmm, yes. Well, then, that concludes the tour, I’m sure you can find your way back to your place. I’ll see you around. Remember to behave, you don’t want me to deliver a good spanking,” Troy patted your head, chuckling as he exited the warehouse. Once he was out of earshot, you sighed, cursing. Perhaps there was a way you could create a bot to tear this place down, but that’d be difficult to keep under wraps. 

You busied yourselves with the robot parts, going to work on fixing up a loader bot that had the Hyperion core still intact. Other mechanics walked in, grunting in acknowledgement of your presence, but keeping to themselves. Similar minds think alike. Soon the warehouse was bustling with life, sounds of whirring parts, sparks, and hammering creating a delightful tune in your ears. At least something to keep you off your mind of your freedom taken from you. 

Bandits came and go, delivering parts, requesting services, and tuning up their guns. Your loader bot project was abandoned for the day as you were pulled in to fix up a shield for a big cheese of the cult, probably as a way to test your skills. You lost yourself in your work, zoning out and focusing on soldering wires and motherboard chips, humming a tune. Time passed by, and soon some of the mechanics were departing the shop for the day. You stayed behind, intent in finishing up lest you want a visit from the Calypsos or their stooges. 

Adding the final pieces to the shield, you placed it to charge up for a moment. As you made your way to the sink to wash your greased-up hands, a loud bang caused you jump. You glanced at the shield still connected and undamaged. The sound of boots clicking on the concrete floor announced someone had entered the shop. Judging by looking outside the window, night had set in. 

You cautiously moved to the side of the warehouse, standing still when you locked gaze with the other individual. Tyreen smirked, hand on her hip, “Figured you’d be here still this late, I take it you are settling in well?” You looked away, heading back to the sink to wash your hands. Scrubbing your hands with soap, you rinsed off the grime from your hands and face, drying yourself with a tattered cloth. Too bad you didn’t have a tub at your new place. 

Tyreen sat by a workbench near the charging shield, waiting patiently for you. Eyeing her suspiciously, you approached the bench, unplugging the shield from the battery slot on the wall. She offered a smile, tilting her head, her hair bouncing slightly. You narrowed your eyes. You noticed that she wasn’t wearing her regal-looking jacket, but a black, sleeveless one over a tank top shirt, giving a glimpse of her Siren tattoos and revealing more skin. She leaned forward. You pulled back at your work.

“What you got there?” Tyreen coyly asked, resting her chin on her arms, propped on the bench. You replied, flatly, “Work.”

Tyreen hummed, nodding. She placed on the bench a small box, the scent of food hitting your nostrils, “I brought you dinner, can’t be working on an empty stomach, doll.” 

Your stomach betrayed you again, growling with anticipation of the meal. You ignored it, still working on the shield. Tyreen opened the box, picking at the food with a fork, lifting it up towards you, “Eat.” 

“I’m working.”

She sighed, giving you an exasperated look, “Eat.” She pushed forward, bumping the food on the corner of your mouth. Hunger won as you opened your mouth, eating the piece, but not looking up at her. You could tell she had a grin on her face. She kept feeding you while you placed the final touches to the shield. After a while, you finished the meal, drinking the ale she brought over. 

You soldered the shield’s chip compartment shut, reprogrammed, watching it come back alive. This pleased you for a moment, before souring at Tyreen’s clapping.

“Yay, you fixed it, I knew you were good for something,” she teased, “At least here you have access to more tech parts.” 

Before you could grab the shield, she snatched it, inspecting it, “Hm, yes, very good.” You kept your tone low, “Give it back, its not yours.”

Tyreen grinned, clipping the shield to her belt, patting it, “Oh, actually it is. Got busted with your fireworks at that bandit camp. Saved me, Troy, and you.” She blew a kiss to you, jumping off the chair, heading out towards the exit of the warehouse, “Your welcome for the food, get some rest.”

Once she was out of view, you threw the items from work bench off to the floor, banging on it, “FUCK YOU!”

Had you known, you would have rigged it with an explosion.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

You pressed your forehead on the shower stall tile, letting the cold water numb your skin. In the span of a few hours, you lost your bandit buddies, taken prisoner, and kept around by wannabe Gods. Truth be told, you missed your place at the camp. Even without the new commodities you had now, you felt freer. Here, holed up, you wanted to disappear. 

After Tyreen’s little asspull on you, you grew frustrated. It was obvious she didn’t bring the item personally to you, figuring that you might pull something on her. Clever, you gave her credit for it. 

Drying yourself off, you got a glimpse of yourself on the bathroom mirror. The bruises from the fight against Troy darkened, purple on your skin. Sighing, you tidied up, at least grateful for running water. Exiting the bathroom, threw your dirty laundry on the floor, making your way to the bed, laying down, hugging your pillow. Your mind went back to the warehouse, to Tyreen’s Siren tattoos. Punching the pillow, you yelped, nursing your hand. Yep, still recovering. 

Sleep was going to be hard to come by. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. Before long, deep sleep triumphed. The soft breeze of the night cooled the hut, causing chills to go through your spine. Your head felt light, warm as if someone was massaging it. A pressure down your abdomen made you to curl up. You let out a small whine, hugging yourself. The remnants of Troy’s kicks had caught up to you. 

There went your sleep.

 

-0-0-0-0—0

Morning came by, the daunting task of getting up while in extreme amount of pain proved to be challenging. You could hear Mouthpiece ringing in the early day’s announcements and the ETA for the sermon. Heeding Troy’s advice, you wanted to get your sermon quota over with before the Calypsos and their cult decided to ruin your day further. You changed to a navy baggy shirt, loose pants, and wore regular boots, deciding the steel-toed ones were heavy for the morning. You hadn’t bother to get supplies the day before, making a mental note to pass by after the sermon. For now, you went hungry.

Walking through the streets of the hub was eerie, having watched the crowds going on about their life, but no soul was around. As you stepped into the church, you were met with a small group of psychos, chanting about the God Queen and Father Troy. The robed man, the cult priest, from yesterday was at the pulpit, sang hymns. You took a spot near the back, sitting on the pew. 

“Welcome followers of our Twin Gods. The blessed ones have bestowed their good graces on us bandits, we answer their call, to offer our flesh and our guns for their glory!” the priest cried out, lifting his arms up.

“Our flesh, our flesh!” the psychos chanted. You were spooked, were they going to light themselves on fire? 

“Display your marks, loyal followers,” the priest removed the upper part of his robe, displaying the CoV’s symbol etched on his chest. The psychos removed their masks, the symbols carved on their faces. Oh shit.

You shrunk in your seat, hoping they wouldn’t call you out. However, you were dealing with psychos.

“You! Where is your mark!?” a psycho yelled, pointing at you. All the psychos and priest turned to look at you. You shyly waved at them, “I’m new here…?”

“Child, you haven’t been given the mark?” the priest asked. You shook your head. Once he got a glimpse of you, he gasped, “Oh, you were with Father Troy! I apologize again, I didn’t mean to question you!” He bowed, cursing at the pyschos to do the same. The group kneeled in reverence. You were a bit shocked. 

“Uh…okay?” you whispered, unsure what to do. The priest ushered the psychos back to their pews, some of them glancing back at you with awe and admiration. You sunk back. 

The sermon continued with no interruption for a while before the occasional psycho screamed out about their love for the Calypso twins and watching one of them lit themselves on fire. You were glued to your spot the whole time, afraid of drawing attention. The priest concluded the sermon by displaying his mark, carving more lines around the circle of the design, drawing out fresh blood. 

“Serve loyally and obey!” he cried out, the psychos standing, chanting. You eyed the exit. 

The psychos placed their masks back on, slowly walking out of the church, flashing thumbs up and bowing at you. You awkwardly waved back. The priest approached, a small smile on his face. 

“It pleased them having your presence here, you have been given favor by the God’s Queen,” the priest started, not paying attention to your features darkening at the mention of Tyreen, “but I must warn you, although we are all loyal to the Twin Gods, there will be some out there that will try to sabotage you.”

Sabotage?

“I’m not sure I’m following,” you asked, sitting up straight, “Sabotage?”

The priest nodded, “Yes. Many will try to destroy you for a shot to be in the best graces of the Twin Gods. I will pray for your glory in battle.” He leaned forward, taking out a note from inside the sleeve of his robe, handing it you quickly. The priest gave you a curt nod before exiting the church.

You glanced down at the note, opening it. 

-“Meet me at the clinic.”-

The note wasn’t signed, but by the handwriting you judged it was not any of the brainless bandits around here. You were debating whether to go, remembering you had to get supplies to stock up at your place. Not like you were weirded out by the ongoing events here with the Children of the Vault. Stepping out, you were catching glimpses of everyone finally out and about. Some bandits were sweeping the streets, others were taking out trash and setting up shop. It was unnerving you how ‘domestic’ all of this looked. 

You ignored looks, walking quickly to the clinic. During your hasty entrance, you bumped into a large object, causing you to fall back. You didn’t meet the floor, but were held by an arm. A mechanical arm.

“Woah, this much energy in the morning? I wonder what’s like in bed-“ Troy cut it short, snorting at the glare he was receiving from you, “I’m joking.” He steadied you up, allowing you entrance to the clinic. He led you to a side room where a bandit medic was laying out bandages and alcohol, next to the items was a short dagger. 

“Tyreen got after me because I forgot to tell the bastards to mark you, so here we are,” he said, grinning as he grabbed the dagger. You eyed him, then the dagger. Oh, this wasn’t going to end well. Troy shooed off the medic as he playfully twirled the dagger, glancing at you.

“Now, where to mark you?” Troy asked, licking his lips. He made a gesture to your thigh, abdomen, arm, and chest, “I’ll let you pick.”

“What.”

“It doesn’t hurt much if you get it on your arm, the skin is tighter, on the abdomen and thigh you skin is thinner, will hurt like a sonabitch,” Troy continued, ignoring your response. His face lit up.

“Oh, I know the perfect spot,” he growled out low, grabbing your arm to pin you on the medical examination chair. You hissed, struggling back.

“Don’t move! I might nick an artery!” Troy yelled, keeping his grip on you tight. You hissed out more as he dug into your skin above your collarbone. The smell of blood wafted in the room, making you dizzy. Troy hummed while working, biting his lip. He pulled back, admiring his handiwork. 

You could feel blood oozing out, a sharp pain hitting you in your stomach. Since you didn’t have breakfast, your body was going crazy. The world spun as you felt something heavy on top of you. You grabbed on, trying to push it off. Troy let out a whine as he lapped up on your blood. 

“I need a sip, just a little,” he cried out, licking your wound, “so good, you taste so good…” You could feel his teeth scrapping the mark more, his rough tongue pulling back the skin. He placed a steady hand on your hip, tilting your head to get more access to your neck. 

“Shit, if I had known you were this good, I wouldn’t have let Ty keep you,” he purred out, nipping at your neck. You bit back a moan, reaching out to the medical tray. Troy was busy getting his blood fix when he felt a sharp pain on his cheek, causing him to pull back. Weak and about to pass out, you held the dagger out, hissing. 

Troy smirked, licking his lips from your blood, “I need to ask Ty for a switch, this is so unfair.” He wiped the blood from the cut on his cheek, smearing it on your lips. You sat up, shaking a bit. He held out a mirror for you to gaze on, you growled at the sight of the CoV mark.

“Welcome to the family,” Troy said, laughing. In your mind, he was lit in fire.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

As an apology for nearly scaring the shit out of you and getting freaky, his words, Troy helped you take boxes of supplies back to your place. You were grateful your shirt was dark, otherwise the curious onlookers would have questioned the blood-soaked spots. Troy had a grip on your arm, keeping you steady as you walked while his mechanical arm held the boxes. 

Once inside your hut, you landed on the couch, keeling over from pain. Troy poked at you, “Don’t be so dramatic, it was only a bit of blood.”

You groaned out in pain, ignoring him. A packet of food hit your face, followed by others. Military rations. You didn’t bother to move, ripping one of them open with your mouth, slurping on the contents. Troy sat next to you, amazed at your skill.

“You surprise me every time we meet, mechanic,” Troy said, leaning back, “Even while in hunger, in pain, you still manage to try to kill. Pretty sick.” He opened a packet, eating the contents. You didn’t bother responding, instead focusing on not throwing up the food goo. 

Troy gazed down at you, “I recommend taking the day off, rest. I know you are hurting from our fight.” You grunted. He combed his fingers through your hair, chuckling when you tried to slap his hand away. 

“I bet it fucking hurts, that kick I gave you. You got me good several times with that chain whip of yours. Pretty hot,” he whispered, “I wouldn’t mind you pining me down again. Not many live to tell the tale.” You groaned, a headache emerging. If you weren’t weak from hunger and pain, the dagger would have been embedded on the side of his head. You chuckled weakly at that.

“Oh, you like the idea?” Troy patted you on your head, misreading your response, “As much as I love delivering pain, I’ll pass for now.” He stood up, stretching, “And I mean it, get some rest. Tyreen will not be happy with you passing out at the shop.”

He was met with you flipping him off. Troy laughed, heading towards the door, “Oh, by the way, don’t tell Tyreen of our little incident. She’ll be stuck to you if she finds out and I don’t want to face her wrath,” And out he went, slamming the door shut. 

Your headache grew. 

The food packets remained forgotten on the floor as you laid on the couch, nursing the pain of the headache, the mark, and your stomach. As much as you hated to agree with Troy, it was the best choice to remain in the hut and rest. You doubted the other mechanics would complain about your absence, after all, you could use Troy as a back-up plan to explain it. Besides, you did indeed fight against Troy the day before. Fucker was still up and running while you were plastered on the couch. 

You drifted in and out of sleep, watching as the sunlight casted through the curtains created a dazzling pattern on the hut’s walls. It reminded you of the glittery sand from near the bandit camp, your former home. When it wasn’t covered in blood or guts, you’d collect the sand in small jars to use for your weary feet after a long day of tuning up bandit vehicles. You curled your toes, trying to reimagine the same sensation. 

Tears stung your eyes. You sobbed, letting it all out. You lost your home, your bandit buddies, your bots, your little safe haven out in the wastes. Now you were marked. 

You belonged to the Children of the Vault. 

Hugging yourself, you fell asleep, feeling more lonelier than usual.

-0-0-0-0-0-0

By the time you woke up, the sun was setting, marking how long you’ve been out for the majority of the day. You slowly sat up, rubbing your head. The dizzy sensation was gone, your stomach slightly satisfied with the offerings, but the headache was still present. 

And his name is Troy, you thought. You waltzed into the bedroom, making way to the bathroom. Inspecting the mark, you hissed at the bruising. The temptation of telling Tyreen what happened surged. Splashing water on your face to wake yourself up, you walked back to the living area, taking notice of activity outside the hut. 

Peeking out the window, you could see a hologram version of Tyreen and Troy, addressing those in the main square.

“Followers that wish to join us in the next raid, you all know what to do! Give your flesh and grab a gun!” Tyreen stated, looking down at the crowds who roared in approval. Troy at her side nodded, extending his arm out. 

You rolled your eyes, deciding to tune them out while heading to the small kitchen area. Raids? Right. You wondered if the cultists were aware you were beating down on Troy. Not that you want to bring it up, seeing as how Troy revealed he was turned on by the thought of another rematch with you. Or submitting to you, it was weird. 

The crowd kept going crazy outside, making it difficult to concentrate on your end to create a meal. You didn’t know how those who lived near the main square area were able to sleep with all the ruckus. After several times, you managed to make yourself some food paste, crumbling crackers with cheese and a side of pudding. Your mind and stomach wishing it was the food the robed cultists had given you when arriving to the CoV. The Calypsos probably got to eat that every day.

Slowly eating the food, you let your mind wander off for a bit. The priest from the church had mentioned about sabotaging and sorts. You weren’t sure what he meant by that, but considering how the psychos were quick to turn on you for not displaying a mark was a bit frightening. Only after he made a gesture about Tyreen did they settle, you weren’t sure about that either. 

Even here, status meant everything. Back in the camp, you were no regular bandit grunt, but not a commander. You were considered the lifeline as the one who was able to repair their guns, vehicles, and gadgets. Not that it stopped you from engaging the enemy when the time came for it. It was a life skill from your time as a scavenger. For a time, you saw it as a good experience to have, but it landed you in the sights of the Calypsos.

The bandit leader was somewhat easy to read, though you almost lost your fingers for overstepping his boundaries. The Calypsos on the other hand, from the short amount of time with them, seem excited that you were snappy with them, with Tyreen being the only one to physically reprimand you whereas Troy pushed your buttons for shits and giggles. You were sure this wasn’t normal cult initiation rites. 

A soft knock on the door brought you back to reality. You sighed, hoping to be left alone for the rest of the day. Forgetting the number one rule to check through the window who it was, you opened the door, coming face to face with Tyreen, who was smiling, swaying back and forth. She was dressed more casually. 

“Hello, doll” she chirped, only to receive the door slamming on her face. You could hear her muffled laughter on the other side.

“That wasn’t nice! Rude!” 

You picked up your dirty dishes, setting them on the small kitchen sink. The rattling of the window brought your attention. Tyreen made her way in, falling into your hut. 

“For once I’m glad I’m small. Didn’t want to destroy your door,” she said, grinning. She stood up, dusting herself off, “Wouldn’t want to send everyone panicking.”

You ignored her, cleaning up the table and putting away the food rations. She made herself comfortable on your couch, observing you while you finished. After tidying up the area, you made your way to the bedroom. She followed behind.

“Get out.”

Tyreen raised an eyebrow, “Oh? I came all the way here to check up on you after Troy told me you were still feeling ill from the fight.”

You growled, of course Troy wasn’t going to mention his blood fix freak out. Tyreen sat at the end of your bed, still observing you as you went about picking up the dirty laundry and fixing up the dresser. After making sure the bathroom door was locked, you proceeded to undress yourself, getting ready for a shower. The shower itself proved to be stressful as the cold water irritated your healing mark as well as your bruises, plus you kept an eye on the door in case Tyreen decided to barge in. So far nothing. 

Part of you hoped Tyreen was gone by the time you finished, but your luck sucked. She was still sitting on the bed, watching something through the EchoNet. When she became aware of your presence, she placed it away. 

“I thought you were gonna stay inside until you pruned up! Imagine that, wait no, don’t,” she said, shuddering, “I don’t like the feeling of wrinkly skin, cuts easily.”

You sat on the other end of the bed away from her, taking the towel to dry thoroughly your hair. She stood up, standing in front of you, “Let me help you.”

You growled.

She ignored this, “Let me help you.” You relented, throwing the towel at her. Tyreen smirked. She patted your hair with the towel, gently pressing down on the ends. You refused to look at her in the eye. She grabbed the brush from the night stand, motioning you to move around. You complied. 

Anger seethed inside you.

Tyreen brushed your hair, humming, seemingly pleased. As she brushed your hair, she let her hands trail behind your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Satisfied with her work, she proceeded to massage your head, gently. You mentally cursed at your body betraying you, melting under her touch.

“So tense, doll,” she whispered, “you got to relax, loose the tension, soak in the good vibes.”

“Not with a monster like you around,” you muttered.

“What was that?” she asked, tugging a bit at your hair.

“Nothing.”

Tyreen chuckled, using a band from her wrist to tie your hair into a loose ponytail. Her hands rested on your shoulders, continuing her massage. Your body tensed up again, before becoming loose. She kneading your shoulders, upper back, and down. You clenched your fists.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, your tone venom laced. Tyreen kept going, snaking her hands under your shirt to rest them on your hips, pinching the skin. You could feel her hot breathe on your ear.

“Haven’t figured it out yet? You’re my plaything,” she huskily whispered, nipping your ear, “My beautiful little bandit doll.”

Tyreen jumped back in time, dodging your punch, laughing as you stumbled forward, still weak. You fell down to the floor, cursing at her. The siren tattoos on her skin glowed. She did the same thing as in the camp. 

“Tsk, tsk. Troy was right, even while weak, your urge to kill is there, so alluring,” she knelt down, grabbing your hair, pulling it back hard, “can’t wait to see what you have in store for me, doll.”

She pushed you on your back, straddling your hips. You were unable to move, frozen in place. Tyreen’s tattoos kept glowing bright as she caressed your face with her siren hand, tracing down the mark above your collarbone, “What a beautiful place for the mark.”

You grunted, hoping your body would break out from what she was inflicting on you. She lifted your shirt up, caressing your abdomen, pressing down on the visible bruises. You let out a gargled scream, tightness in your throat. She moaned, biting her bottom lip, grinding against you. 

“I had to have you, doll. Watching you fight for your life in that bandit camp. The way you made Troy submit to you. Oh... “ She threw her head back, breathing heavily, “Covered in blood, bruised up… The perfect killer…”

You glared at her, still grunting. Your struggling exciting her more. Tyreen’s expression was dazed, as she leaned forward, placing butterfly kisses on your abdomen and chest, teeth grazing over your bruises. You arched your back, from pain or pleasure you weren’t sure. 

She made her way back up to your collarbone, biting down over the CoV mark, causing you to hiss. Tyreen licked the oozing blood, smacking her lips. The Calypsos were into blood play, great. She cupped your face between her hands, leaning to brush her lips against yours.

“You belong to me, understand?” Tyreen said, her icy glare peering down to you, “Don’t disappoint me, doll.” 

And with that, her grip on you loosened. She stood up, watching as you rolled over to gag and cough, catching your breath. Tyreen chuckled when you returned the glare.

“Get some rest, I’ll see you soon,” she said, waving at you, exiting the bedroom. You heard the door open and close, her footsteps fading away into the night.

You were seeing red.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Days turned to weeks and soon you found yourself marking your 3-month stay with the Children of the Vault. You had healed up from your fight with Troy, still nursing your bruised ego with Tyreen, but managed to stay out their sights for a while. The taller Calypso would sometimes stalk you in the shop, using his mechanical arm as an excuse to get close to you. Tyreen on the other hand would come visit you in your hut late at night, mindlessly chatting about her day, raids, and what offerings she’s received from other bandits, ignoring that you were seething a few inches away from her after that rough housing that night. At least she kept her hands to herself for now.

You didn’t bother making friends, feeling that any of them would rat you out to the Calypsos if you made a side remark on how much you hated them or wanted to plot their deaths. Keeping up with the sermon quota, you learned the priest acted as a middle man for the Calypsos, delivering gifts or the random Troy note that expressed his need to get whipped by you. Those were promptly trashed away. 

Today so far was normal, you were at the mechanic shop working on a personal project. All your service requests were complete and the last thing you wanted was to see any of the Calypsos on your way home. From what you heard from the other mechanics, they were coming back from another successful raid and everyone was beginning to congregate at the gates to welcome them. You saw it as a waste of time.

Inspecting the gadget in your hands, you carefully placed it on your wrist, flicking it. You hmphed, not liking the situation. Smacking your wrist a few times, the gadget sprung a small dagger that easily fit on your hand. You grinned. Perfect. 

You tweaked the gadget a few times, testing out the spring mechanism, satisfied with the release of the dagger. The leather strap of the gadget hugged your wrist gently. You flicked your wrist again, the dagger deploying into your hand. 

“Good, good…” you whispered. You were eager to test it out on the Calypsos.

“The Twin Gods have returned! Loyal followers, welcome them! Praise be the Calypsos!” Mouthpiece rang on the loudspeakers, spooking you, “A special celebration will be held at the arena at sundown! All are required to attend!”

A celebration? 

You could hear the crowd cheering from the shop, gun shots blazing about. You sneered. Placing the final touches to your gadget, you looked up to see the Church priest making his way in. You pulled down your sleeves, hiding the gadget on your wrist.

“Greetings, I hope I’m not intruding?” the priest asked, reaching your work bench. You shook your head, feigning innocence. He reached into the sleeve of his robe, pulling out a small package, placing it on the work bench. The letters “TC” was written on it. Troy or Tyreen?

You eyed it suspiciously, slowly opening it. The contents of the package were a new set of clothes, plus a short-sleeved, black leather jacket with embroidered flames on it. You laid out the clothes: a red tank top, slim-fit cargo pants, some belts with spikes, and black fingerless gloves. Although they had shitty personalities, their taste in clothing was something you approved. Slightly.

“They hope this pleases you. They want you to wear this for the celebration,” the priest informed, “You don’t have to go through the normal entrance, go to this place.” He placed a note with a crude drawing of the arena, pointing at a small shop adjacent to it. 

You nodded, grabbing the note to discard later. The priest gave you a low bow, “I wish you well.” And out he went. 

You grabbed your new clothes, deciding to leave the shop to get ready for the celebration. The testing of the gadget may be happening soon.

-0-0-0-0-0—0

You gazed at the mirror, not recognizing the person staring back. There you were, donning the clothes the Calypsos gifted you. You had been wearing baggy shirts to cover the mark, but with the tank top, it was displayed for all to see. Disgusting, you thought.

Checking your wrist, you were content that at least the leather jacket was long sleeve, allowing you to hide the weapon. Without further ado, you made your way to the small supply shop. Crowds mingled in the main square, the hologram sign announcing the celebration with Tyreen and Troy’s faces twirling in circles. While the crowd was heading to the arena, you were going to the less populated area.

You knocked at the shop’s door, waiting. A few locks were heard before the door opened, a robed cultist greeting you, “Please, come in. We have been expecting you.” You ducked your head, eyes adjusting to the darkness in the dimly lit place. Several statues on the works were displayed around, neon signs, and glass work scattered the place. Huh, the church’s shop. 

You followed the robed cultist down a corridor, entering a room with impaled psychos and bandits. Your heart dropped. Some of them were wearing the Skullmasher’s bandanas. 

“Doll! You have arrived! So great to see you!” 

You quickly faced Tyreen, your expression dark. Troy was next to her, chuckling. Both of them approached you, waving off the robed cultist. The taller Calypso eyed you hungrily earning a smack from Tyreen.

“You look good in those, I’m glad they fit well,” Tyreen whispered, kissing you on the cheek. Troy whined next to her, “I want to give the mechanic a kiss too.”

“My plaything, not yours Troy. Last one you ripped their face off,” Tyreen growled out, squeezing your arm, “and the previous one I shared with you, you ended up ripping them in half.”

“Not my fault they were weak in bed,” he hissed out, grabbing your other arm, “I promise to be gentle. I want the mechanic to ride me dirty like a bandit technical on fire.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Tyreen shouted, pulling you to her, “Back off!”

You pulled away, growling. Both twins stared at you, Tyreen amused and Troy curious. You eyed the impaled bandits, glaring again at the Calypsos. 

“Oh, I told you the mechanic wasn’t going to like that, Ty,” Troy pointed at the room’s decoration, “You were doing so well, having her like you and all. RUINED.”

Tyreen rolled her eyes, pushing you into another room with monitors displayed, “They are dead, whatever. Come on, doll. I’m going to show you around before the celebration.” You growled, following her lead with Troy next to you. She hopped around, giggling excitedly as she pointed at the monitors that gave different angles of the arena. The stands had been filling up, with more people walking in to get the best seats. You noticed an area called the “SPLASH ZONE.”

“These is where Troy and I stand for the EchoNet broadcast, we can choose different effects,” Tyreen explained, grinning at you, “We can even make it so that we are different colors!”

“One time I accidently enlarged our heads, Ty didn’t like it but we garnered a lot of views and followers,” Troy commented, pointing at a digital counter on one of the screens.

Views? Followers? 

“Pft, right, I got even with him by showing everyone Troy getting his ass beat by you, doll,” Tyreen stated, grabbing your hand to pull you to another section of the room, “You have become quite popular!”

Popular…? You remained quiet, unsure what to say. These terms were confusing you. She opened a door leading to outside, the area being the backstage of the arena. You recognized some of the mechanics from the shop, who were running back and forth fixing audio and video equipment. 

“Troy and I will be in those seats,” Tyreen pointed out to a ledge sticking out close to the area’s upper decks, “One of the best views, but you doll, will get the best seat in the house. I hope you enjoy the show.” 

She cupped your face, pressing her lips against yours, “I hope you have fun.” You stood still, glaring at her. Troy nudged at her, receiving another smack on his hand. Tyreen sighed, moving aside, “Only one, Troy.”

Troy threw his fist up in the area, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek, “See? I’m gentle. On the cheek unlike Tyreen going up all in your space.” You rolled your eyes, temptation about your dark secret with him on the edge of your tongue. 

Tyreen hissed at Troy, crossing her arms, “Fine. Whatever. One of the priests will take you to your spot doll, see you after the show.” She dragged Troy away, mouthing something angry at him. You turned to face the priest from earlier, having not noticed him earlier.

“This way, the celebration will start soon,” he informed. You sighed. He led you down an elevator, to another room with a lone chair. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. 

“What the-?” You heard the door slam behind you, the lock on. You were trapped. 

“What is the meaning of this?!” you yelled, banging at the door. You stumbled down to the floor when the room shifted, a part of the wall opening. You held your hand up to shield you from the glaring spotlights. 

The sound of the cheering crowd reached your ears, your eyes adjusting to environment in front of you: the arena’s main pit area. You weren’t the only one in the area, other bandits, armored Goliaths, and bruisers were emerging from their rooms.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” you muttered, walking forward. Realization hit you that you didn’t have any weapons save for your dagger. You cursed at the Calypsos. 

“RISE FOR YOUR TWIN GODS! RISE FOR THE GLORY OF THE CALYPSOS!” Mouthpiece’s hologram emerged from the central platform, sending out sparks, “WE CELEBRATE THEIR VICTORY AGAINST THE CRIMSON RAIDERS!”

The crowd went wild, chanting “Calypso, Calypso” over and over again. The holograms of Troy and Tyreen emerged as well next to Mouthpiece. Tyreen blew a kiss while Troy swung his blade around.

“Welcome to another Let’s Flay, my amazing followers! Today’s play is special! We brought back the Plaything Series as you requested!” Tyreen lifted her arms up, fireworks sounding off around her.

“We listened and got some new toys! These playthings have been working hard these past months to be on the top of their game for this MOMENT!” Troy announced, pointed his blade up, “If we hit 1,000,000 likes on this, we will go to the bonus round today!”

“Fuckin lunatics,” you whispered to yourself, shaking a bit as the crowd kept chanting, growing wilder. Was this what the priest was talking about? Battle? Sabotage? Was this what Tyreen meant by you being her plaything?

The Calypso’s holograms disappeared, replaced by Mouthpiece, “Playthings, get ready for the fight of your lives! All weapons are allowed, any dirty tactics, all rules are out the window!”

A horn sounded off as all the playthings rushed into the fray. You quickly took cover behind a broken pillar, trying to assess the situation. With no guns, it was a death wish. You weren’t sure how much charge your shield had and the dagger wasn’t going to do much damage. Grenades flew all over the place, explosions, screams of pain decorated the pit. 

You jumped from cover to cover, looking for anything to use to attack. With Lady Lucky taking pity on you, a dead bandit had their gun intact, you appropriated it quickly. The insignia was that of the CoV, so you had to watch out for it overheating. A bruiser took sights on you, shooting off his shotgun. You retook cover again, throwing rocks at him to get an opening. 

The bruiser laughed it off, “What’s wrong little one!” Timing it perfectly, you shot at him while he was reloading, damaging his face, pouncing to impale him on a concrete rod sticking out from the arena’s debris.

“AND WHAT A SPECTACULAR END FOR THAT PLAYTHING!!” Mouthpiece commented, setting off more fireworks, “TRULY SPECTACULAR, THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING HAS MADE HER DEBUT!”

The crowd went into a frenzy, “God’s Queen, God’s Queen.” You cursed under your breath, running to the bruiser to pick up his shotgun and few grenades her hand. Barely dodging another rain of bullets, you shot back at a marauder, blowing his leg off. With the knowledge that you were Tyreen’s plaything, all of the combatants set their sights on you. 

“This one is mine! I will have the God’s Queen graces!” A nomad yelled, shooting a shock type bullets at you. Your shield took the brunt of the attack, allowing you to get close to the nomad as you shot at his metal shield to stagger him, pouncing and shoving a grenade under his collar. The nomad screamed as you rolled over, getting covered in his brain guts. 

“GOD’S QUEEN, GOD’S QUEEN!”

“WHAT A BRUTAL END, FATALITY, MAYHEM!” Mouthpiece sang out.

You tackled the marauder that was crawling on the floor, grabbing his head and beating it to the ground, taking his gun. Flashes of your impaled bandit buddies flowed into your mind. Red. Red. Red. You bashed the marauder’s head with the butt of the shotgun. 

Two psychos ran straight to you, grenades in their hands. You took off running, tailing them through the rest of the arena where a Goliath was busy fighting off a nomad and a bruiser. Tossing a grenade at them, you slid down a lower indent in the ground, catching them off guard. A dust explosion covered the area. 

“Where did she go?!” the psycho hollered. You peeked out, aiming at the Goliath’s helmet. 

BANG!

“ARGH, PREPARE TO SCREAM!” the Goliath roared, its skull splitting, skin turning red. Red. Red. Like your buddies impaled. Like the first bruiser you killed. The Goliath’s skull gone like the marauder’s that you bashed with the shotgun. 

“GET ON YOUR GODDAMN KNEES!” the Goliath ripped through the two psychos, their grenades setting off, injuring the nomad and bruiser. Both of them began to shoot at the Goliath. 

“What a twist in this play! Everyone is so pumped up!” Mouthpiece hollered, sounding off the horns, “We are getting close to 1,000,000 likes on this!”

You let the Goliath take care of the nomad and bruiser, running off to the other part of the arena. You hid, trying to catch your breath. Ringing went off in your mind, a headache emerging. This was getting too crazy for you. You inspected your acquired shotgun and SMG, both of CoV origin. Making quick work on the weapon parts, you shifted the shotgun’s fire rate to mimic that of an SMG. With this modification, the SMG was rendered useless. 

The Goliath’s wrath sounded nearby, prompting you to run away again, looking for another weapon to acquire. Several of the ‘playthings’ were dead, half-dead, or their remains scattered everywhere. The field was turning red. Red. Red.

Rummaging through body parts, you found a Jakobs revolvers, thanking the not-Calypso Gods for a decent gun and ammo. A shot grazed you on the arm. You hissed, turning to look at another marauder. 

“When I kill you, the God’s Queen will surely favorite me!” he yelled, shooting again. The shield, recharged, ate the damage, giving you a chance to take cover. The marauder kept shooting, wearing out your cover. You threw a grenade out, hoping it landed near him. The marauder cursed, dodging away before the grenade went off. 

You ran through the explosion, jumping on the marauder, punching him on the face and proceeded to choke him. He struggled back, kicking. A shadow loomed over. You glanced, eyes widen as you let go of the marauder, jumping out of the way of the Goliath’s punch. The marauder screamed out in pain, getting torn in half. 

“BRUTAL! TRULY BRUTAL!” Mouthpiece sang out, “ONLY TWO PLAYTHINGS LEFT IN THE FIELD, WHO WILL EMERGE VICTORIOUS?!”

Now to deal with the Goliath. You kept running around the area, vaulting and jumping around the debris to get away from the Goliath. By now, he was a God Goliath, very ironic. 

“I WILL DEVOUR YOUR ENTRAILS!” the God Goliath roared out, pummeling through everything to get to you. You shot back a few times to stagger him to no vail. You looked around the arena to see what you could use. The broken pillars and concrete slabs were no help, but perhaps? You gazed up at where Mouthpiece was located, noticing several chains holding up the platform. 

To hell with it. 

You threw a grenade at the God Goliath, stunning him. Taking opportunity, you shot at the links of the chains connected them to the arena. The platform began to shake.

“WHAT THE HELL!?!” Mouthpiece said, watching as the roof support of the platform collapsed into the arena. The crowd went wild at this. 

You led the God Goliath under the area of the platform, throwing another grenade to stun him. You could hear Mouthpiece cursing into the microphone as the entire platform descended on to you and the Goliath.

The entire arena went quiet, the dust slowly clearing out. 

“We have run into some technical difficulties everyone, please stand by!” Mouthpiece shouted, his hologram appearing above the arena. He was standing near the ledge where the Calypsos were, they were leaning over, looking into the arena. 

Several surveyors descended into the arena, clearing the dust. The remains of the platform, loudspeakers were scattered everywhere, sparks flying everywhere. Some of the combatant’s bodies were visible. 

“Uh, this is a first…” Mouthpiece said, scratching at his helmet, he looked at the Calypsos who were surprised at the events. 

The crowd mumbled and whispered, also unsure of the events until the surveyors hovered over a broken loudspeaker. A hand stuck out, grabbing one of the surveyors, causing it to shrill. You emerged from the debris, covered in blood, soot, and dirt. Coughing, you keeled over, still holding the surveyor in your hands. 

The God Goliath busted out from the ground, roaring, “YOU GODDAMN BITCH!” He stumbled forward, charging up. You held ripped the surveyor’s wings, chucking it at the God Goliath. He caught it, confused.

“Say cheese asshole,” you muttered, shooting the surveyor causing it to shock the Goliath. He hollered in pain, falling to his knees, then face down. You threw the gun to the side, the last shot spent.

‘If it took more than one shot, you weren’t using a Jakobs’

You looked around, remembering of the mess you were involved. Glancing up, the crowd stared back. Then clapping started, following by chants and banging. 

“What.”

“WONDERFUL, SPECTACULAR END!” Mouthpiece roared, setting off more fireworks from the sides of the Calypsos. You glanced up at Mouthpiece, noticing the Calypsos had excitement written on their faces.

“THE GOD’S QUEEN PLAYTHING WON! PRAISE BE UNTO YOU!”

“PRAISE, PRAISE!” The crowd chanted. You stumbled forward, nursing your injured arm, spitting out blood. Red. Red. 

The Calypso’s holograms emerged, Tyreen laughing and Troy had his arms up.

“TRULY AMAZING! We delivered to you all this exciting Let’s Flay: Plaything Series!” Tyreen cheered, “And guess what?” She stepped aside, Troy moving forward.

“We hit 1,000,000 likes! You know what that means!” Troy added, cheering.

“BONUS ROUND! BONUS ROUND!” The crowd chanted.

“That’s right! Bonus round! Bring in our new participant!” the Calypsos said in unison, their holograms disappearing. You cursed, watching as the crowd went wild.

From the opposite side of the arena, the wall opened, revealing a chained up Badass Psycho, struggling. Two cultists pulled at the chains, bringing the Badass Psycho in, quickly running back as the walls closed.

“No fucking way…” you muttered, glaring at the Calypsos. The crowd kept chanting “Bonus Round” as the horns went off, the locks of the cuffs of the Badass Psycho unlocking. It quickly zoned on you.

“Ehehehe! Come here!” he gargled out, running. You grabbed a broken piece of metal rod, ready. He lunged forward, aiming to bite you. Using the rod, you shove it in his mouth, breaking his teeth, causing it holler out in pain. Running past him, you picked up the chains that were abandoned. You coiled up one end of the chain around your arm, swinging it around to whip the Badass Psycho as it lunged again towards you, metal rod still stuck in his mouth. 

“SHE’S NOT GOING DOWN! LOOK AT HER GO!” Mouthpiece announced, “BUT HOW LONG CAN SHE LAST?!”

“PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING!” The crowd roared, cheering you on.

You tuned everyone out, chain whipping the Badass Psycho several times in the face. This made him angrier, as he attempted to grab the chain, pulling it towards him. You flew into him, taking advantage to punch him in the face only to be kicked on the side. Gasping for air, you rolled over a few feet from him. 

“OH! SHE’S DOWN! SHE’S DOWN!”

“My fucking shield, ugh, platform must’ve it knocked the power chip off,” you muttered, getting up again. The Badass Psycho crawled on all fours, grabbing your foot, swinging you to the side. You swung the chain again, wrapping it around his leg pulling him down. 

“IM GOING TO RIP YOUR FACE OFF!” He hollered. The Badass Psycho glanced up, only to meet your boot on his face. You wrapped the chains into makeshift collar around his neck, choking him. He gagged, squealing, throwing up blood from his crushed throat. Red. Red. 

You held a maniacal look on your face as you stepped on his chest, hearing the crush of his ribs. He squealed out more, kicking. His only large hand pulling at the chains. 

The crowd was going wild.

You tugged more, crushing his throat, pulling harder and harder until his neck snapped. His struggling ceased. But you didn’t stop. You flicked your wrist, your dagger appearing. In quick movements, you stabbed and stabbed the Badass Psycho, dirt and blood mixing more on your clothes. Red. Red. Red. 

You grabbed a nearby rod, lifting it up, and stabbed it through one of the Badass Psycho’s eye, pulling hard, the head easily coming off. You screamed, flinging the head of the Badass Psycho up to the Calypsos. 

It landed with a bloody thud near them, Mouthpiece stepping back. Troy and Tyreen had shocked expressions on their faces. 

“THAT’S YOUR FUCKING FUTURE,” you screeched, baring your fangs. You threw the rod down, the sound echoing off. Stumbling to the side of the area, you welcomed the walls opening to let you out. Slumping on the chair, you threw up on the floor, coughing. Red was all you could see. 

You could hear the distant cheers of the crowd and the Calypsos addressing them, muffled to your ears. The door opened to reveal the priest from earlier. You glared at him.

“That… That was splendid…” he whispered, approaching you carefully, “I have no words… I can see why the Twin Gods favor you…” You stood up, wiping the bile from the side of your mouth, you wanted him to catch on fire on the spot.

“The celebration will keep going for a bit, but I will escort you to tidy up. We need to check your injuries,” he explained, motioning you towards the door. You spat at his feet, walking out. Two other cultists were waiting, grabbing your arms. Exhaustion took over you. 

They led you to a small medic room nearby. The cultists undressed you, pushing you to enter a tub with warm water. You let them wash you, hissing when they scrubbed a bit too hard on the bruises and cuts. They whispered amongst themselves at your fight, admiration at your brutality as they put it. 

There was a tiny feeling of pride in you. Tiny. Squashed by hatred. 

As the cultists busied themselves with you, the medic room’s doors were barged open. The Calypsos walked in, anger evident in their faces. 

You looked up at them from inside the tub, unfazed. 

“EVERYONE OUT,” Tyreen yelled, “OUT!”

“But Lady Tyreen, we haven’t finished-“ the cultist quiet down as Troy hissed at them. All of them abandoned their posts, quickly leaving the room. The last one out slammed the door shut. 

Both of the Calypsos stared at you, before breaking out in laughter. 

“Hahaha, I love it. I love it!” Tyreen clapped, “I relish that look on their faces.”

“Hehehe, but plaything over here didn’t buy it,” Troy whined, crossing his arms, “That’s no fun.”

You sunk further in the tub, underwater. Hands reached in, pulling you out. You growled, glaring at them despite your hair covering your eyes.

“The hell you think you are doing! You could have drowned!” Troy stated, steadying you up. 

“That was the point,” you muttered, smacking his hand away when it went further down your spine. He grinned. Tyreen pushed away your hair from your face, smiling.

“Put me down as scared and horny, doll. That bloodshed out there, beautiful display for all to see,” Tyreen whispered, caressing your cheek, “You didn’t disappoint me.” She kissed you on the cheek. 

“That head toss though, very sick. The crowd loved it, I loved it, Ty loved it,” Troy eagerly stated, biting his lip, “This is probably the first time I’ve been jealous of a Badass Psycho, getting beaten by you…” He knelt down, moaning a bit, “Ty, you got to let me, please.”

“The way she ripped his off the head, the chains, everything!” Tyreen recounted, licking her lips, “Oh doll, you are truly wonderful. Covered in blood and guts…” Both of them were breathing heavily.

“I’m pruning,” you flatly responded, lifting your hands to show them all wrinkly. 

Both of them looked at you, thrown off.

“Oh.. that’s right… you’re in the tub…” Tyreen commented, looking around, “Huh, uh… Maybe we should have waited for them to finish cleaning her up…”

“That’s what I told you but you were getting all horny up in the arena!” Troy chastised Tyreen, “Maybe we should call them back in…”

Tyreen shook her head, “I’ll do it.” She reached out for the soup and loofah. You stared at her, eye twitching. Of course, she’d find an excuse to touch you. 

She hummed as she scrubbed your back, kneading into the sore muscles. Troy went around the room searching for clothes and towels. Reaching into the tub, she removed the water stopper, letting the murky, red water drain off. Red. Red. You stared as the swirls brown and red danced around the drain. Troy came back with a fresh set of towels and a gown, turning on the shower head. 

You wanted to tell them you could clean up after yourself, the words stuck in your mouth. Troy picked up a sponge, lifting your leg to scrub. Tyreen moved on to your arm, looking at your wrist, “Oh, the dagger thing? Sneaky.” You refrained from pulling away. She unclasped the gadget, setting it aside. There was slight bruising on the wrist, the spring mechanism busting out during the fight. You made a mental note to check it again.

She scrubbed down your chest, Troy moved to the other leg, trailing close to your inner thigh area. Your breath became shallow as you felt his fingers pressing down a little to close for comfort. Tyreen shot him a look, but grinned as she tilted your head to face her, closing the gap, kissing you. Troy turned off the shower head, gently grabbing your arm, laying kisses from your hand up to your shoulder, opposite of Tyreen. 

Tyreen forced her tongue into your mouth, moaning as you responded back, keeping your head still. Troy nipped at your neck, teeth grazing the CoV mark, biting down gently. You arched your back, moaning more as Tyreen massaged your breasts. The taller Calypso’s rough tongue brought back memories from the medical clinic, lapping up the blood from your neck. Your senses were thrown in overdrive. 

Tyreen pulled away, breathing heavily, excitement in her eyes, “Oh doll, look at you, beautiful. For our eyes only.” 

“Fuck you,” you muttered out, hissing as Troy bit harder on your neck. 

Tyreen shook her head, chuckling, “If you behave, I’ll let you some day. Troy take her out of the tub.” Troy complied, still clamped down on your neck. You didn’t struggle as Troy kept a tight grip on you. Tyreen set out towels on the floor, Troy kneeling down, setting you in front of him. His teeth sunk further into your neck. 

Troy’s mechanical hand wrapped around you, his regular hand resting on your hip, pinching it. He eagerly lapped your blood. Your gaze followed Tyreen as she displayed a hologram from her EchoNet device, pressing play. It was fight in the arena. 

The medic room was filled with sounds of explosions, screams, chants and the works. Tyreen slowly turned to look at you, giggling, “What better way for the champion to receive their prize, right?” She approached you and Troy, kneeling in front of you. Troy grinned against your skin, lifting your leg up while Tyreen moved the other one apart. Anticipation was evident on the Calypsos. You bit your lip as Tyreen caressed your inner thigh, inserting a finger into you. 

Using her own leg, she anchored yours down, while Troy held the other one firmly. She pinched at your breast, eliciting a loud moan from you, arching your back. This drove them both crazy.

“Show her what a good plaything she is Ty,” Troy whispered, licking your neck and earlobe, “She delivered a good celebration for us.”

“She did, she’s a good plaything,” Tyreen whispered back, inserting another digit, thrusting in and out. You whined, your vision getting hazy. You could feel Tyreen nipping on the other side of your neck. You threw your head back, moaning loudly. 

Tyreen kept going, inserting another finger, furiously thrusting, using her thumb to rub on your clit. Pleasure coursed through you, your lips half opened. Tyreen took the chance, kissing you again, deepening it. She bit gently on your lip, dominating. Troy pushed Tyreen off, tilting your head to kiss you. You could taste your blood in his lips and mouth.

“I said only one chance for a kiss, you used it earlier,” Tyreen growled, “You’re pushing it, Troy.”

Troy pulled away, baring his teeth at Tyreen, “I wanted a little bit of the action, do you know how hard it is not to rip my pants off and beg her to fuck me?” 

Their banter was interrupted as you whined, orgasming on Tyreen’s hand, bucking your hips more. You were breathing heavily, dazed as shivers ran down your spine. You glared at Tyreen and Troy. 

“So loud and annoying,” you muttered. Tyreen brought her hand up, licking her fingers, “Says the one who was moaning like a maniac.” You hissed back at her, moving your arm to nudge into Troy’s chest. He loosened his grip on you. 

You touched your neck, viewing your hand covered in blood, turning to glare at Troy, who sheepishly laughed. 

“Sorry?” he offered. You sighed, leaning back against him. Tyreen laughed, massaging your legs, “You are quite something, doll. Full of surprises…” Troy lifted you up, causing you to yelp. Tyreen kissed your stomach, trailing down. 

“We are not done yet with you, doll,” she whispered, licking your inner thigh area. Your nerves went haywire.

The playback of the fight kept going in the background, as twins bestowed upon you their good graces. 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Everywhere you went, you were greeted with applauses and gifts. After your fight in the arena, you became quite popular among the cultists, some wishing to shake hands with you as a way to receive good luck on their day to day activities.

You were disgusted. 

You had relished the anonymity prior to the fight, no one paying attention to you save for the psychos of the church who apparently knew what you were before you EVEN knew. You weren’t sure what was worse, being a whore for a bandit leader or a plaything for some wannabe gods. 

The Calypsos made it well known to you that they wanted your attention, the violence you inflicted on others pushing them over the edge, exciting them. You got to see a different version of them than what the cultists would normally see. Frightening? Perhaps. Headache inducing? Absolutely. 

Tyreen’s visits to your hut were uneventful for the exception of the occasional make-out session she wanted, those ending quickly when you growled at the sight of her tattoos when she attempted to undress herself in front of you. Troy, on the other hand, visited the shop early in the mornings when no one was around, trying to convince you to take him out to the alley and fuck him against the wall. You offered to use your dagger to pleasure him. He misread your tone again, thinking you wanted to have some blood-play with him. 

Then there was the whole EchoNet broadcasting of the fight. You weren’t too familiar with it, only the Skullmasher bandit leader had one. Mouthpiece kept announcing how the Children of the Vault garnered more followers in the aftermath, eager to get a glimpse of you. The God Queen’s plaything.

“Do you know what happens to the playthings once they are through with them?” a raspy voice whispered out.

You turned to face a mechanic at the other bench, pausing with your work on the bandit technical. He took your silence as a sign to continue, making a slit like noise across his neck.

“No kidding,” you reply, unamused, “I’ll perish in the arena before they can finish me off.” 

The mechanic was taken back, “Oh, well. I suppose that’s one way of putting it. I’m surprised you aren’t parading that you are in the favor of the Twin Gods.”

You kept working, deciding to indulge the guy, “I could care less, the moment I was taken from my bandit camp, I died alongside my friends. I’m only war spoils for them, waiting to be discarded.” 

The other mechanic nodded, “Wow, that’s deep… I didn’t know you were from a bandit camp.”

“No one bothered asking,” you replied, continuing your work.

“I will root for you in the next fight,” he whispered.

“Thanks.”  
You smiled a bit.


	2. Dominance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Calypsos and those in their inner circle show you a dark side of themselves. Your dark past shows itself to the Calypsos little by little, revealing an uglier side in Promethea. 
> 
> Also, the Calypsos don’t like competition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Blood play, extreme violence, physical violence, alcohol mention, sexual content, mentions of cannibalism  
> TW: Mentions of suicide, suicides
> 
> As always, not beta-read. Writing errors ahoy! Also, still leaving it as rated M...

\---00000---

“What do you think of this one?” Tyreen asked as she switched between a large grey coat with black fur trimmings and a black coat with tattered sleeves.

Muffled response was all she got. 

“Damnit, Troy. Let her speak!” Tyreen huffed out, throwing the garments on the floor in frustration. From his spot, Troy grinned, his teeth, lips, and chin covered in blood. His human hand was in your mouth, bleeding as you had bit down hard on it. It was retaliation for him biting into your inner thigh as you struggled, your hands tied behind your back, anchored down on a chair inside Tyreen’s “War Room.”

Or as Troy put it, “The Large Walk-in Closet.” It was Tyreen’s wardrobe she picked from for the raids.

“You can’t expect me to sit idle while she’s all tied up, presentable! Plus, you take too long picking outfits,” Troy muttered, licking his lips. He smirked as you tried to kick him, his mechanical arm keeping your legs down in place, “Is that why you tied her up in the first place? Did she try to escape? Got tired of hearing you rant!”

Tyreen grabbed a discarded garment from the vanity nearby, chucking it at Troy who dodged, laughing. 

“I have to carry the burden of your own fashion choices, brother!” Tyreen commented, chucking more clothes at Troy. She looked down at him then at you, hands on her hips, “You better clean that bite up! And doll, release your grip on his hand.”

You bit down harder before letting go.

“OW!” Troy barked out, laughing as he inspected his bleeding hand, “Damn girl, you have a nasty bite. I like that… Ow!” Tyreen smacked him with a throw pillow. 

“Clean her up, NOW,” Tyreen ordered, before disappearing into the closet, rummaging through clothes. Troy did a mock gesture of her as he went to grab a small medkit from Tyreen’s vanity. He sat down back next to you, opening the kit, “I get to play doctor with you, I expect full cooperation…”

A growl was all he got.

Troy lifted your bruised leg up, spraying disinfectant on the bite he inflicted. You hissed out in pain, glaring at him. He merely chuckled, pressing down on it with a gauze, watching as you bit down on your lip, closing your eyes tightly.

“Stings like a bitch, huh? I only bit, not tore your flesh, imagine that,” Troy taunted, smirking, “My little teeth scrapping at that tender flesh, exposing the bone-“

“Troy, I better see that thigh bandaged when I get out!” Tyreen yelled, slightly muffled from inside the closet.

“Yes, MOM, god,” Troy answered, cleaning up the dry blood from around the bite area. He smirked as you let out a small growl when his hands strayed away while bandaging the wound, tugging at your underwear, “I wonder if the flesh from your abdomen is more tender than your thigh…” He licked his lips, still bloody from his previous meal. 

You placed your foot on his chest, sneering, “Get your hands off, now.” You had a little blood smeared on your lips from when you bit his hand. 

“Shit, you can’t order me around like that and not expect me to get hot and bothered, mechanic,” Troy mused, feeling your foot pressing down on his chest, “This would be more exciting if you had your chains with you… I’d be the one tied up on the chair as you… heh…” He pulled away, letting his bruised hand ruffle your hair. 

You tried to bite him again.

Tyreen emerged from the closet, wearing a tight black coat, with red fur trimmings on the collar and end of the sleeves, gold lines went up and down on the left side. She took notice of your bandaged thigh.

“How do I look, doll?” Tyreen asked, twirling in front of you.

“Hideous.”

“Excellent, that’s what I was aiming for!” Tyreen grinned as Troy laughed, who smacked your leg, right on the bite wound. You cursed out in pain, Tyreen chasing Troy out the room. 

\---0000----

Three months had passed since your debut in the CoV’s arena, with smaller fights in between, where you came out victorious. As expected, you ended up getting a large following within the cult and the Calypsos’ obsession with you increased. Before, they would let you alone for several days. Now their interactions with you have become more frequent, much to your disgust. Dealing with them meant repercussions with your body. Their reasoning was: if you could handle beatings in the arena, you were able to withstand being roughly handled by them. 

Right, like being tied down to the chair while the shorter Calypso had a fashion show and her brother was biting and feeding off your blood. 

During these past three months, you unwillingly learned more about the twins’ personalities and how they acted with you. 

Troy was more cautious since Tyreen had made it clear to him that you are HER plaything, not his. Should he overstep boundaries set by her, that meant no contact with you. This didn’t stop him from taunting and pushing your buttons. He, of course, still made it clear he wanted to ‘submit’ to you. All in all, he was the ‘gentle’ one, as odd as it sounds.

Tyreen, on other hand, was extremely rough and grabby. She relished seeing you in pain when she’d search for bruises and wounds, pressing down or scratching on them and getting off. She was quicker to anger, resorting to physically punishing you by slapping you on the face. If she wasn’t busy slapping you, she’d be feeling you under your clothes.

A common occurrence as well, every time you were in the same room as both of them, you were left with bite marks. Their excuse: ‘You are tasty.’ Which led to frequent visits to the infirmary to get properly checked. Although, their robed cultists, or priests, would be the one to inspect them if you were to stay around the Calypsos for longer periods of time. 

“And that should do it, the wounds won’t get infected,” a priest informed, gently patting your bandaged bite mark on the shoulder, courtesy of Tyreen. You were currently in an atrium inside the Calypsos’ main living quarters, being checked by several priests and getting prepped for an event being conducted by the Calypsos. You tried asking for what occasion, threatening them if it was another arena fight. Some of the priests assured you that no playthings were going to fight. It didn’t ease your nerves. 

Other priests were outside, looking into the atrium, staring at you. Unlike the priests currently attending you, these priests had flashier robes and wore bloodied psycho masks. One of them stood out from the group, a priest with a ‘T’ mark on their mask. It never stopped staring even when those around it were talking. You refrained from making eye contact. 

After making sure you were ready and cleaned up, the priests dressed you in a simple black robe with embroidered red flames on the sleeves, similar to the leather jacket gifted by the Calypsos. They ushered you out of the atrium, past the group outside, the creeper priest following your movement. This time, you made eye contact, narrowing your eyes. 

Passing through a large archway adjacent to the atrium area, you arrived at a small clearing with rising platforms on both sides, flood lights pointing down towards a drop-off into a larger clearing. As you observed, the clearing mimicked the outskirts of the wastes, for the exception that it was gated as you could see watch towers along the edges of the tall, metal fence. 

On the rising platforms, several individuals mingled, though, you noticed that they were wearing black robes with high collars, faces exposed. One of them caught sight of you, nudging the others. All eyes were on you. Gulping, you stared ahead. 

A priest approached you, the one who performed the morning sermons and got along with Troy: Jackal.

He bowed, “Greetings, pleased to see you gracing us with your presence. I’ve been assigned to escort you.” You growled. 

“Not like I had a choice in the matter,” you muttered, taking notice of the other priests filing into the area, including the creeper one. Jackal stood up, brushing aside your response, motioning you to follow him. He led you towards the center platform where a throne was located, viewing into the large clearing. 

“What is going on?” You asked, whispering. 

“Our God Queen and Father Troy are preparing for a raid, this is a ritual they perform before heading out,” Jackal informed, standing proud, “I’m sure you will enjoy this display.”

You nodded slowly, observing the rest of the people in the area. The priests had all congregated on both sides of the arena, the creeper priest standing on the right side where the black robed spectators were at. 

“What about them…?” You gestured at the other spectators.

“They are joining our Twin Gods in the raid, the generals,” Jackal answered, “They are ferocious fighters.”

Five of those ‘generals’ observed you, whispering amongst each other. A tanned man with messy brown hair in a bun, heavily scarred left cheek, and piercing purple eyes held a menacing look, sneering at you. 

“That guy keeps staring at me…” you whispered to Jackal, side glancing him. Jackal nodded slightly.

“That’s Prophet Donovan, Father Troy’s right-hand man. If Father Troy isn’t around, he is the one in charge…” Jackal trailed off, his tone showing unease, “don’t get caught in the same room as him, alone.” 

“I see…” You replied. Donovan cut off eye contact, resuming his talks with the other generals. It was obvious to you that he was someone not to mess with. 

Banging was heard on the right side, Troy kicking open the doors from the right platform, dragging his blade. Tyreen followed behind him, smirking. All present, except you, bowed. Jackal nudged at you. You didn’t budge.

“My beautiful doll! You look good in anything, though I’d prefer it off you,” Tyreen approached you, waving off Jackal to step aside, “I can’t wait for you to see my performance, we didn’t get to fully fight out in the Skullmashers bandit camp. Troy got all the fun.”

Your eye twitched as the mentioned of your dead buddies. Tyreen grinned, tugging at your chin, “No need for that sour look, doll. We’re here for a good time.” She placed a kiss on your cheek. She turned to look at Troy, who was talking to the priests by the platform, “Hurry up, Troy!”

You looked at Troy who was talking to the creeper priest. He was chuckling, grinning while speaking to them, the creeper priest’s gloved hand tugging slightly at his belt, a finger resting on his chest. Your eyes widen a bit at this brash display.

“TROY!” Tyreen yelled, holding your hand, “Everyone is waiting, come on!”

Troy stuck his tongue out at her, muttering something to the priest before grabbing his blade, approaching you and Tyreen, “So loud, Ty. The bandits won’t run away, we got time.” He tilted his head, checking out the new robe on you, “That looks tight, would look better off.” You narrowed your eyes at him. They were twins alright.

Tyreen sighed, snapping her fingers. Mouthpiece’s hologram showing up in the clearing. 

“Is everything ready, Mouthpiece?” Tyreen asked, tugging you along to the center platform, Jackal and Troy following behind.

“Yes, Your Holiness, at your mark,” Mouthpiece informed. All present took their spots in smaller thrones that appeared. In the center of the clearing, another platform rose from underground, displaying several small cages with bandits inside. You froze on spot, remembering how you were brought it in. 

“You fucking assholes! Let us go!” one of the bandits yelled out, kicking the cage bars. They all are started to cuss and shout, rattling the cages.

“We got a good batch!” Troy cheered, pointing his blade at the caged bandits, “You better back up that yelling when you fight me!”

Tyreen grinned, removing her coat and handing it to Jackal. Troy did the same before jumping into the clearing, Tyreen following him, her marks glowing bright. Both of them started to stretch, taunting one another. 

You stood next to the throne, looking down into the arena, Jackal next to you, “…What are they doing…?”

“You’ll see,” Jackal sounded amused, his eyes glinting with eagerness, “You won’t be disappointed.” You weren’t sure about that.

“Hey, Ty. Let’s make this more fun! The one that scores the most kills gets a little prize,” Troy said, popping his jaw, “If I get more kills, I get to spend an entire day AND night with your plaything.”

Tyreen gasped, glaring at Troy, “The audacity! Of course, you would go for something like that!” Her expression changed immediately, grinning, “Alright then, if I win, you cannot have ANY physical contact with her.”

“W-What?! I ask for a date and you’re giving me a lifetime ban?” Troy whined, sticking his blade on the ground in frustration, crossing his arms, “You’re too cruel.”

Tyreen rolled her eyes, “Fine, until the next raid. That’s my final offer. But if you win, you better be gentle with her.”

Troy looked up at you, grinning, “Oh, I will be gentle…” You glared back at him. They were acting like little kids, fighting over who gets to play with a toy. A plaything. Jackal tugged at your robe since you were leaning too far into the platform. You stepped back, sitting down, biting your lip.

You heard Troy laugh, Tyreen teasing him over the noises of the bandits fighting to get out of the cages.

“Child…” Jackal said, looking at you in surprise, a little pale.

“What?” You asked.

All eyes were on you for the exception of the Calypsos and the bandits. You saw priests rush forward to you, grabbing your arms as Jackal was pushed away.

“YOU! You are sitting in HER throne! In our God Queen’s throne!” they yelled, trying to pull you off. 

“W-What?!” You struggled against their grip, pushing some of them off. A hot flash swept into the platform area, causing everyone present to start choking. The priests that were on you frozen in place, their bodies twitching, some of them grunting in pain.

“I don’t recall ordering anyone to TOUCH my plaything,” Tyreen’s voice sent a chill down your spine with her murderous tone, “Let this serve as a warning.” She snapped her fingers, the frozen priests disintegrating on the spot, their blood sucked out. Jackal watched in amazement. You stood still, gripping tight to the throne. The crimson swirls made their way to Tyreen, who was holding her Siren arm up, glowing, taking in the energy. 

Troy laughed, shaking his head, “You guys made her mad! And you gave her a FUCKING boost!” He sounded pissed off, but amused. 

Tyreen deactivated her powers, everyone easing up. She waved at you, “Get comfortable! I will win this one for you, doll!” You shrank in the throne, avoiding eye contact with everyone else. You were still processing the death of the priests in front of you. Fear bubbling up.

“The hell, I will WIN this one!” Troy countered, picking up his blade, “Mouthpiece! Begin this shit now!”

The cages of the bandits opened, allowing them to escape into the clearing. Some remained behind, confused. 

“Our Twin Gods shall deliver judgment to the Viper bandits, who dared encroach into our territory,” Mouthpiece announced, his hologram appearing next to the bandits, causing some of them to scream and run, “On the count of 3, Twin Gods proceed…”

‘The Viper bandits?!’ you mind went into overdrive. You quickly looked at the remaining bandits, trying to check for familiar faces. 

“3…” The spectators yelled, starting the countdown.

“2…” The surveyors emerged, flying towards the Calypsos who grinned and flashed victory signs. A view and follower counter flashing. 

“1…!!”

Tyreen and Troy took off running, chasing after the bandits. Screens emerged around the spectator area, a giant one displaying in front of you, giving all a glimpse of the different angles of the clearing. Screams, screeching, sounds of bones crushing, gagging echoed in the spectator area. The spectators watched, hollering in laughter, watching in glee as the Twin Gods hunted down every single bandit. Jackal kept chuckling, his face maniacal. All around, everyone went mad. Some of the priests threw themselves on the floor, chanting praises for the Twin Gods. A priest stabbed themselves in reverence. 

You stared at the screen, unable to look away, knuckles white as you grabbed onto the throne. The bandits begged for their lives, only to meet the end of Troy’s blade or being shot by Tyreen, getting their energy sucked out. The screen would splash with blood, Troy and Tyreen at times emerging from cleaning the surveyors’ screens. The world spun around you, watching the Calypsos’ bloodlust in complete display. 

Were they always like this? Unhinged? Feral?

“Our Twin Gods are beautiful…” Jackal whispered, falling to his knees, still holding the Calypsos’ jackets, “Praise be our God Queen, Father Troy!”

Lunatics. All of them.

“You must be feeling joy… This is what they feel when they watch you in the arena!” Jackal praised, smiling at you, “Blood coursing through them, the smell of death all around you!”

Troy and Tyreen’s laughter reached your eyes. 

You didn’t respond to Jackal, still staring at the screen. The faces the surveyors were able to catch striking your memories. Memories long buried. Memories of another life, another you. 

Who killed to survive. 

The Calypsos killed for sport.

Troy, soaking in blood, grabbed a bandit from his hair, dragging him over to a rock, kicking the bandit on it, “You are the last one…” The bandit screamed as Troy swung his blade, decapitating him instantly. The taller Calypso cackled, holding the head up head for the surveyor to see. Tyreen appeared beside him, covered in blood, chuckling. 

“Hunt successful! Raid will be successful!” Tyreen announced, sucking the energy from the bandit. The display showed the viewer and hit count, the followers chanting praises on the chat.

“PRAISE TO OUR GODS!” The priests chanted while the other spectators applauded, standing up. Jackal was crying, praying. From a distance, the Calypsos approached, waving at everyone in the stands. Some of the generals jumped off, making their way to the twins, smacking Troy on the back or shaking Tyreen’s hand. Several of the priests rushed over them, kneeling. The creeper priest made its way to Troy, kissing and caressing his hand. Troy wrapped his arm around them. 

Jackal approached you, wiping his tears of joy, “Would like to go down?” He sounded hopeful.

The Calypsos looked up at you, grinning. 

You stared down at them, expressionless.

“No.”

Their faces faltered.

You saw red. You saw monsters.

\---0000---

“You should have seen it in person, his face just went ‘SPLAT!’ all over the ground, some of it splattered on my boots,” Tyreen recounted, smacking her first on the table, “Shot him again for that!” She and Troy cleaned up after the fight. 

The room erupted in laughter, some whooping. Priests walked around, serving food and refilling drinks. You could hear the chatter and yapping as Troy joined in on his kills. The creeper priest was sitting next to him alongside others. From your location, behind a screen wall from Tyreen’s spot, you were able to see the entire room. A priest reached you, tilting their head at the sight of your untouched plate. You hissed at them, causing them to bow their head, quickly leaving. 

“Oh, there was this idiot who tried to stab me, stabbed him through,” Troy informed, making swishing noises, “He put up a good struggle before I cut him in half, soft flesh.”

Everyone murmured praises, slightly jumping when they heard a bang from behind Tyreen. The priests all got up with their weapons. She quickly turned around, snapping her fingers for a priest to go check. A priest went in, gasping slightly. Shuffling was heard.

Tyreen got up, making her way in, the others whispering amongst themselves. When she entered the sectioned off area, she saw the priest holding your bloodied hands, removing pieces of broken glass shards. A broken glass was shattered on the floor. Your shoulders were tensed up.

“What happened here?!” Tyreen asked. The priest jumped back, kneeling but avoiding the broken glass. You remained in your seat, holding out your injured hands. Before Tyreen could speak, you spat out a piece of glass from your mouth.

“Nothing,” you responded, wiping the blood away from your mouth, “May I be excused, I’m not feeling too well…”

Tyreen narrowed her eyes, calling for Jackal to escort you out. He was alarmed at your appearance, gently guiding you as you limped forward, passing by the table everyone was dining at. The priests sat back down, putting away their weapons. Troy noticed the blood in your hands and lips, quickly making his way over to Tyreen. The priest was cleaning up the broken glass and picking up the plates while Tyreen stared at the table. 

“Ty, what happened?” Troy asked, following her sight. 

“I think we may have killed some old friends of hers,” Tyreen stated, somewhat amused.

Carved deep into the wooden table was the bandit sigil of the Vipers, surrounded by names that were “X” out, your bloody handprints all over it. A named with “W” was heavily scratched out. Above it all the names was a body count, “Tyreen: 50” and “Troy: 53” however, underneath Tyreen’s was a “+5 from priests” and a “?” 

“She kept count…” Troy trailed off, pointing at the carvings, “And it looks like I won?”

Tyreen shook her head, “No, she counted the priests I killed, therefore I have a total of 55. I win.” She laughed, walking out the room to join the others before Troy could complain. He growled, but lingered enough to stare at the names. He shook his head, rejoining the Tyreen. 

Tomorrow, he and Tyreen were to carry out the raid to exterminate the Viper bandits. 

\---000----

Jackal bandaged the palm of your hands, having removed the remaining shards of glass and placed small stitches on larger cuts. You stared at the floor, quiet.

“What’s the matter, child? Were you not pleased with our Twin Gods’ performance?” Jackal asked, a hint of concern. You glanced up at him, then stared back down, refusing to speak.

“You sure do a lot of that, remaining quiet, even in the sermons,” Jackal mused, gently patting your hands, “Many would kill to be in your spot.”

You hissed, causing him to jump, “I wonder if I kill you here, would they care?”

Jackal blinked, stepping back, “I-I didn’t mean to speak out of place…” He bowed in apology. He let go of your hands, cleaning up the dirty rags and bloodied water to busy himself. You stared at your hands, blood still soaking through the bandages. 

“So, this is the ritual you spoke about,” you asked, removing slightly your robe to inspect the other bandaged parts of your body. 

“Y-Yes… its called the Harvest… the Twins Gods conduct this before going off to a raid… Those you saw were members of the Viper bandits, captured during a smaller skirmish,” Jackal blurted out, nervous, “They’ll be heading out to their main camp…”

“I see…”

Jackal looked at you curious. He considered you an odd one, threatening in tone to calmly asking questions before getting quiet. He finished cleaning up when Tyreen stepped into the room you and Jackal were in. 

“Doll! We’re done, came to pick you up,” Tyreen chirped, waving off to Jackal who bowed, departing, “I was informed you didn’t eat anything, I’ll have some fruit be brought over to my room. Always good to have something in your stomach.” She grabbed your arm, avoiding your bandaged hands. 

You sighed, getting up and following her out. The lights in the hallways were dim, casting sinister shadows on the décor of the building. The red glow of the sun setting filled the hallways. You were lost in thought when sounds of banging and moaning reached your ears. 

Tyreen sneered in disgust, “Are you kidding me? I told him to do it elsewhere, not in here!” She banged at a door on the way around the corner that was slightly opened. As you passed by, you locked eyes with Troy who was sitting on a loveseat chair, naked. A woman was riding him, her back facing you, moaning. Troy seemed to try to cover himself, the woman taking notice of this. Tyreen slammed the door closed. You were able to catch a glimpse of a psycho mask on floor. It had the “T” mark on it.

“Sorry about that doll, my brother always forgets to close the door,” Tyreen said, disgust still present in her tone, “Good thing we will be on the other side of the building, we won’t hear them. She’s a screamer.”

Too much information, you thought. 

Arriving at her room, she ordered one of the guards to bring fruit. Entering, she slammed the door, grabbing your arm harshly, “What were you trying to pull over at the dinner, plaything? You interrupted our talks…”

You grunted, refusing to speak. Tyreen pulled at your hair next, pushing you down to the floor, “And you sitting in my throne, think of yourself as high and mighty all of a sudden?”

Big talk for a small person, you thought. You glared at her. She raised her hand, intent on slapping you when a knock on the door stopped her. Tyreen let go as you slumped forward.

“Come in.”

A priest slightly opened the door, holding a plate of fruit, walking inside. They made no comment about you being on the floor, merely placing the plate on a small coffee table, bowing and quickly leaving. Tyreen grabbed a piece of fruit, eating it. 

“Grab some, doll. Its fresh from the greenhouse,” Tyreen teased, eating another piece of fruit. 

You eyed the fruit, your stomach betraying you by growling. Biting your lip, you looked away. Tyreen picked up the plate, setting it down next to you, “Eat.”

You sneered, slowly reaching for the fruit, but pulled back when she reached out as well. She chuckled at this, “I’m not going to slap your hand away. Eat.” She bit into another piece of fruit, walking into her bathroom. 

Tyreen busied herself, reemerging from the bathroom, smirking at the sight of the fruit gone. You were leaning against the coffee table, your back facing her. When she approached, you looked up at her, half-asleep. 

“It’s been a long day, come on,” Tyreen tugged at your robe, helping you up, “The floor is no place for you, doll.” She disrobed you, pushing you on her bed. You welcomed the touch of the soft, plush surface, your eyes slowly closing. You felt her weight on you, her arms wrapping around your body. Tyreen brushed her lips on your back, gently nipping, causing you to giggle a bit as you fell asleep. 

“Goodnight, my little bandit doll,” she whispered, resting her head against you.

Goodnight little monster.

\----00000-----

Jackal tugged at your robes, fixing the wrinkles and the tie around your waist, standing back, nodding. You had a bored look on your face. The raid party was preparing to depart, the Calypsos insisting for you to be present. At least they gave you a simple crimson robe and not some extravagant, complicated outfit that Tyreen was planning to wear. Jackal put the final touches, satisfied.

“There, proper for our Twin Gods,” Jackal mused, patting your arms. You rolled your eyes at his comment. 

The bandit technicals, several you recognize from working on them on the shop, were lined up, armed cultists loading guns and ammo. Not too far from them were several generals that you saw at the Harvest, Troy’s right-hand man, Donovan, glancing once in a while at you. His staring made you feel uneasy.

Several priests were marking the bandit technicals with blood, some scribbled the CoV mark all over them. A symbol of protection? More like ruining your work. 

The psycho priestess, the one you had seen with Troy the night before, was leaning against his bandit technical, talking to other priests, twirling a ceremonial dagger in her hand. 

“Make way! The Twin Gods approach!” an armed cultist shouted. Everyone immediately filed, standing erect in their spots. 

The Calypsos strolled in, swagger in their movements, as they reached the war technical. Troy was carrying his blade, snapping his mouth at the armed cultists, grinning when they jumped back a little. Tyreen waved, smiling, displaying her Siren tattoos.

Donovan approached them, bowing, “We are ready to depart, my God Queen, Father Troy.” 

“Excellent, have everyone get in their vehicles,” Tyreen ordered, making her way towards you and Jackal. Donovan whistled, the armed cultists jumping into the technicals. Troy lingered with the psycho priestess for a while, then marched behind Tyreen.

“Doll, behave while I’m gone. Don’t go maiming anybody! Well, I suppose a few is fine,” Tyreen ran her hand through your hair, “How about a good luck kiss?” She grinned.

You furrowed your eyebrows, sighing in defeat as you kissed her on the lips, pulling back quickly before she got any ideas. Tyreen giggled, clapping, “Yay, I feel energized!”

“Hey, I want one, too!” Troy whined, pushing Tyreen aside, “Give me a good luck kiss.” 

Tyreen pushed back, “No, you don’t need it!” You watched them bicker, Jackal standing behind you, curious. 

Troy lifted you up, “Quick, give me a kiss on the cheek!” You yelped, grabbing on to him, trying to get a firm grip. 

“Troy!” Tyreen cried out, punching him on the stomach. The taller Calypso merely laughed.

“I need all the luck I can get, Ty!” Troy lifted you higher. Embarrassment was evident on your face.

“F-Fine, just put me down!” you spat out, getting red. Troy laughed more, setting you down while Tyreen pinched him on the side, “Ow!”

“Make it quick!” Tyreen said, heading to the war technical, an armed cultist helping her into the vehicle. Troy leaned forward, pointing at his cheek, “Well?”

You grimaced, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. Before you could move back, he grabbed on, planting a firm kiss on your lips, dipping your slightly. When he pulled back, you glared at him.

“Haha, remember, all the luck I can get!” Troy messed your hair up, departing to his bandit technical. You wiped your mouth, growling. The raid party slowly departing, the priests chanting praises. You watched them leave, noticing the psycho priestess staring at you, gripping tight her ceremonial dagger.

Jackal eyed both of you, nervous. 

“Can I return back to the shop? I have work to do,” you asked, not breaking eye contact with the priestess.

“I-I don’t see why not, our Twin Gods won’t return for a while,” Jackal informed, ushering you away from the area, glancing at the priestess.

She stood on her spot.

\----0000-----

Troy walked amongst the debris of the bandit camp, dragging his blade with his mechanical arm. Almost all bandits present were wiped for the exception of non-fighters, but those died at his hands or his army. Tyreen’s orders were to completely raze all Viper camps. These were the types of missions Troy liked, allowing him to fully go all out. He mused at the Harvest ritual, feeling pumped up for this moment. 

He kept walking, approaching a collapsed hut with several lockers smashed in from building’s walls on it. An older woman’s body was seen crushed near it. However, she was alive, grunting. Easy target. Troy neared the woman, grinning. Perhaps he could get some fresh meat, his mind going back to feeding off from you.

The collapsed wall crumbled further, pushing a locker down, its contents spilling out near the older woman who gasped for air, looking around. Troy noticed she grabbed a paper, sobbing. He rolled his eyes, now towering of her.

“I was hoping for a quiet death, but it looks like you are going to give me a hard time,” Troy muttered, kneeling down. The older woman struggled against the debris, alarmed at Troy’s presence. 

“Y-You fucking monsters!” she yelled, thrashing. Troy laughed, patting her on the head with his mechanical arm, “Too loud. What do you have there?” He snatched the paper from her hands, causing her to yell at him to give it back.

He examined it, realizing it was an old photo with children, with a slightly older teen in the center, flashing a peace sign. Troy narrowed his eyes at the teen, then blinked. 

You were the teenager in the photo. 

He flipped over the photo, the names burned off. 

“Give it back!” the older woman kept yelling, reaching out in vain to Troy, “You fuckers took everything from me!”

Troy ignored her outburst, “You know this girl?” He pointed at the teenager. The older woman sobbed, “Like you give a shit!”

He stepped on her hand, “I asked you a question. Answer.” She cried out in pain.

“I know her… I-Is she alive?!” the woman asked, pleading, “Is she alive?! You’ve seen her?!”

Troy looked at the woman in confusion. You were found and captured in the Skullmashers bandit camp, nowhere near the Vipers camp. From what he recalled of the intel, the Vipers never strayed off from the area north of the waste. 

“She is alive… She’s with us.” Troy muttered, watching for a response. 

The older woman cried more, “She survived after all… So, this is her revenge against us…” 

“What are you-?” Troy asked, stepping back as the woman took out a gun, setting it on the side of her head, “H-Hey!”

“Tell her that Wilkins will wait for her in hell,” Wilkins said, smiling before shooting herself. Troy remain still, watching as Wilkin’s body twitched. He looked at the photo and then at the contents near the body from the locker. Curiosity got the best of him, rummaging through the items. He found other photos of children, some that you were in, that last one you were holding a small robot, the older woman Wilkins at your side, smiling. In all the photos, you were smiling, grinning, or laughing. Troy only saw you hissing, growling, and glaring at anyone.

/So, this is her revenge against us…/

Troy stared the dead body of Wilkins, pondering on what she said. Revenge? 

He threw the photos aside, only keeping the one he grabbed from Wilkins, bloodied. With his blade, he stabbed her, sighing, “There’s no fun when you kill yourself, sloppy seconds…” 

“Father Troy, we have captured several Viper bandits that were hiding on the hills. How should be proceed?” an armed cultist asked through the EchoNet. 

“Take them in, we can always use fresh meat bags. The camp is ours now,” Troy instructed, receiving a confirmation from the armed cultist, “Ty, are you done?”

“Bandit leader was a tool, tried to stab me while groveling,” Tyreen mused over the EchoNet, “Got blood on my jacket, ugh.”

Troy snickered, “It is indeed the end of the world for you sister. Let’s wrap this up, I’m starving.”

He heard Tyreen laughed, yelling at everyone to regroup. Troy was itching to check out the new toys obtained from the raid. But his mind kept going back to the bloodied photo neatly folded in his pocket.

\-----000000-----

The banging of metal with the hammer was a sweet melody to your ears, the sounds of machines whirring to life energizing you more. It was small things like these that made your stay with the Children of the Vault more tolerable. Other mechanics in the shop busied themselves, finishing up service jobs, also lost in their own little world. You were currently working on a turret modifier for a bandit technical.

It was three days since the Calypsos left for the raid to the Vipers camp with word spreading that they were successful in eradicating them. You were numb to the news, unable to decide whether to be happy or horrified. Shaking your head, you focused on your work. 

No, you were a Skullmasher. Not a Viper.

You instinctively reached for the back of head, scratching. The small indent in your skin evident under your fingertips. Cursing, you resumed your work. 

“REJOICE EVERYONE! OUR GODS HAVE RETURNED TRIUMPHANT!” Mouthpiece sounded off, as always eager, “CONGREGATE AT THE GATES AT ONCE TO RECEIVE THEM!”

All around you everyone went wild, whooping and singing praised for the Calypsos. Annoyed, you slammed your tools down, glaring at them all.

“Come on everyone! We have to go!” one of the mechanics, way too eager for your taste, ordered, pushing everyone off their work benches. The other mechanics filed out of the warehouse, a joyful atmosphere around them. He met resistance with you, “Hey, come on, you stay behind you will get punished!”

You growled, “Being here is already punishment enough.”

He was taken back by your response, “O-Oh.. I.. I mean it… best you go.. I’m slightly aware of what happens to playthings…” Everyone was. He was the one who told you about their fates.

Discarded or killed.

You sighed, putting your tools down. The idiot had a point. Relenting, you allowed him to guide you out, following the crowds forming by the main gate. His stupid grin was giving you a headache as he bounced on his heels, itching to get a look at the Calypsos. You crossed your arms.

Mouthpiece, physically present for once, was on a platform, sounding off, “LET ME HEAR YOU PEOPLE!”

“CALYPSOS!”

“AGAIN!” He raised his arms up, “PRAISE THE CALYPSOS!”

“PRAISE THE CALYPSOS!”

The mechanic shouted in glee with the rest of the crowd. You stood by, unamused. The entourage of the Calypsos entered the gates, their bandit technicals bloody and covered in guts. One of the technicals had a decapitated head as a hood ornament. You caught a glimpse of it, recognizing the bandit. Your blood boiled. 

“Holy shit, here they come!” the mechanic nudged you, pointing eagerly at the bigger war technical. Troy and Tyreen were sitting on their thrones, whooping and shouting. Donovan was driving in Troy’s technical. They waved at the crowd, driving them crazy. Your eyes were glued to the cage directly behind them.

Viper bandits. 

It was a small group kept in a large cage, but you zoned in on a lone figure sitting at the corner, arms crossed as it stared out, meeting your gaze. The older man kept looking at you as the bandit war technical passed by your spot, eyes widening. Fear dropped in you.

“I have shitty luck…” you muttered, receiving a confused look from your fellow mechanic. As if tempting fate, Jackal appeared behind you, causing your companion to yelp.

“Greetings, our Twin Gods require your presence,” Jackal informed, eyeing the mechanic. The latter shook his head, afraid.

“Another arena fight…?” You asked, extremely annoyed. Jackal chuckled, “At the moment, no. Later. Please follow me.”

The idiot mechanic waved at you as he resumed watching the rest of the technicals and armed cultists filing in. You waved back, following Jackal to the main Cathedral, seeing the high-ranking priests already present. The priestess you saw with Troy was inside, wearing the bloodied psycho mask. It felt awkward considering she saw Troy kiss you before departing for the raid. 

Jackal led you up down a flight of stairs, opening a large door, allowing you entrance. The room was filed with odd trinkets, large skeletons and small statues. Raid spoils? The center part of the room was circular, several seats were empty, others covered in jackets. 

Jackal ushered you into a seat, serving you ale, “Our Twin Gods will arrive shortly here, I will keep you company until they arrive.”

You raised your cup at him, with a bored look, “Uh.. cheers?” You downed it quickly, making a mental note to ask for a heavier alcoholic drink to deal with the Calypsos. Jackal refilled the drink, chuckling.

“You seem in a lively mood, this time around,” Jackal commented. 

“The Calypsos weren’t around,” you stated, dismissing his shocked look. Jackal just shook his head.

“I say child, don’t you feel grateful for being in this position?” Jackal asked. You groaned, having to deal with this again.

“’Many would kill for your position,’ yes, you mentioned that before,” you spat out, getting angry, “I don’t know what’s the deal with you people and the Calypsos. I don’t see fighting in the damn arena as something to be grateful for!”

Jackal went quiet, eyes widen a bit at your outburst. You lifted your cup, “I need more.”

“Ah, yes…” he refilled, but you grabbed the pitcher from him, “W-What…?”

“Leave it, I’m going to need it.”

“As you wish,” Jackal bowed, stepping aside. You abandoned the cup, drinking straight from the pitcher, downing it all, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You felt a slightly buzz. Perfect.

“So, what do they want?” you asked, throwing the pitcher aside, leaning back on the seat. Jackal shrugged, “I’m not sure, they only requested for me to bring you here once they came back from the raid.”

You grunted, staring ahead, “Figures.”

Silence settled between the two of you, Jackal refraining from comments. It wasn’t long before the sound of Tyreen’s voice reached your ears, Troy kicking the doors open into the room. Both of them had changed out from their bloodied outfits. Jackal bowed, you remained in your seat.

“Doll! We’re back!” Tyreen chirped, quickly making her way to hug you.

“Unfortunate,” you muttered.

Troy laughed, dismissing Jackal, “Optimistic as ever, mechanic.” He grinned, patting you on the head. He wanted to bring up the photo, but shelved the thought with Tyreen around. 

“Aren’t you going to ask us how it went?” Tyreen asked, petting your hair.

“’How did it go? My God Queen?’” Troy responded with a high pitch tone, making you nod your head. You tried to bite him. 

“Troy, stop it!” Tyreen laughed, swatting his hand away from you.

“She’s not interested in hearing that shit, Tyreen,” Troy poked Tyreen’s cheek, “She’s interested more in our bet! She did keep count!”

“What,” you looked at them both.

“If you recall, I won the Harvest,” Tyreen informed, grabbing your arm, “That means no physical contact with my plaything, Troy!”

“The what now,” you stated.

“Oh, right, because killing those priests counted!” Troy fumed, huffing. 

They saw your marks on the table. You weren’t sure whether to bring up the error in Tyreen’s calculation. Troy not being near you until the next raid or spending an entire day and night with him were the options. Neither were appealing for you. At least Tyreen agreed on one of those.

“She marked 55 for me, 53 for you!” Tyreen pointed at you, “Right doll?”

“I…”

“I will have Mouthpiece check the footage!” Troy countered.

“Uh..”

“I’m not listening!” Tyreen let go of you, covering her ears, “I’m not listening, I won! I WON!”

….

“Mouthpiece, can you scan through the Harvest feed to see who got the highest kill count?” Troy asked, speaking into the EchoNet. You could hear Mouthpiece laughing on the other side. 

You leaned back on the couch, aggravated with the Calypsos’ sibling banter.

“Our God Queen had 50, Father Troy had 53,” Mouthpiece informed, “That’s counting the priests killed in the beginning!” He laughed more, Tyreen rubbing her face.

“Are you FUCKING kidding me!” Tyreen yelled, looking at you, “Is this true?”

You slowly nodded, glancing at Troy who did a victory dance.

“Fuck yeah, I won!” Troy poked at Tyreen’s nose, laughing as she smacked his hand away, “Looks like I get to have a day and night date with the mechanic!” He quickly looked at you. You sneered.

“Nope, nope! None of that!” Tyreen got in front of you, hands on her hips, “I’m not allowing it!”

“Ty, don’t be a sore loser,” Troy teased, ruffling her hair, “I did promise to be gentle with your plaything.”

“That’s what you said with the last one we shared! Do you know how difficult it is to find good ones?” Tyreen hugged you, your face squished against her chest. The low growl was muffled. She held you protectively as Troy reached out to grab your arm, sticking his tongue out at Tyreen.

“No!” Tyreen whined as she let go of you, pouting, “Back in one piece, Troy!”

Troy snickered, wrapping his arms around you, “Yes, yes, I hear you loud and clear. Come on, we have a long night ahead of us… ehehe.”

For once you looked back at Tyreen, pleading. 

\----00000-----

Troy led you into his room, dropping his bloodied blade on the floor. You stood by the entrance, observing the décor of the taller Calypsos’ room. A look of disgust was evident on your face when you noticed the same loveseat from before. You hoped he wasn’t going to do anything aggressive and if he was, not on that thing. 

“Damn, this arm is killing me… Freaking bastard didn’t fix it up … “ Troy muttered, removing his jacket and boots. He glanced at you while rummaging through his clothes, “You know you can sit, right? I don’t know what Tyreen does behind closed doors with you, but I’m not that mean.”

“…Alright...” you opted for the smaller couch by the bed, eyeing him. He dumped several clothes out on his bed, pressing a button on the side of his bed, “Jackal, bring some clothes for the lady. She’ll be spending the night with me.” Jackal sounded surprised on the other line, confirming to Troy about the request before the line cutting off. 

At least he wasn’t going to have you parade around naked. 

You twiddled your thumbs, alert. Tyreen was somewhat easy to read behind closed doors. Troy, without Tyreen around, was going to be a new experience. Was he going to injure you? Bite a lot more? Break something? 

Troy disappeared into another room, which you assumed was the bathroom when you heard water running. His hummed a little tune. This was unnerving, having witnessed his carnage not too long ago.

“The mechanic and I… chilling together in a bathtub… not too far apart because the tub is small…” Troy sang from the bathroom. You buried your face in your hands. 

The rattling of the door brought your attention to the entrance, barging open to reveal the psycho priestess, with the T marked mask, holding a ceremonial knife. You quickly stood up, flicking your wrist, dagger in hand.

“You..” she muttered, “How dare you be in here…”

“Not by choice,” you spat back. 

Troy emerged from the bathroom, grinning, “Hey, so what do you like- Oh, shit.” He groaned, approaching the priestess, “Where’s Jackal, I ordered HIM to bring clothes.”

“Father Troy, you dare soil yourself with this creature?!” she raised her voice, pointing at you. You raised an eyebrow. ‘Creature?’

Troy rubbed his face, “What I do, does not concern you. Get out. NOW.” The priestess turned to look to you and then back at him, holding tight the knife. Her deep breathing evident through the mask. In a split second, she lunged forwards towards you. 

You steadied yourself for the attack, only to watch Troy slam the priestess down to the floor with his mechanical arm. She gasped out, holding on to his arm, “Father Troy…!” He kicked the knife out of her hand, growling.

“You dare disobey me?!” He snarled, getting close to the priestess’s face, grabbing her by the throat, “When I give you a command, you follow through…”

The priestess gasped for air, reaching out to Troy.

“Stop it.”

Troy looked at you, glaring. You narrowed your eyes, maintaining your composure, “Let her go.” Tempting fate again with this ass pull. You were exhausted with dealing with other people.

The taller Calypso grinned, licking his lips, squeezed a little on the priestess’s neck. She grabbed on to his arm.

“Release her. NOW.”

Troy let go, smirking as he stood up. The priestess took a deep breath of air, retrieving her knife. 

“You arrogant bitch…” she said low, voice hoarse, “As if I need your help…”

“Get out before I squash what little patience I have,” Troy ordered, popping his jaw, “I’m still waiting on Jackal to bring what I REQUESTED.”

The priestess got up, holding on to the wall, dumping a bag on the floor, “It’s here.” She hid her knife, bowing before leaving the room, slamming the door. 

“Ugh, she’s angry. Oh well, makes good for angry sex,” Troy muttered, picking up the bag, turning to face you, “As for you, damn, I think I can just get off from hearing your authoritative voice, mechanic.”

Your eye twitched a bit, grabbing the bag from his hands, heading into the bathroom, “Let’s just get this over with…”

Troy laughed, trailing behind. He removed his clothes, eyeing you as you removed yours, observing the small skull tattoo on your right side: the sigil of the Skullmashers. He helped you into the tub, sitting on the opposite side of you, slowly sinking. 

“Shit feels good after a long day of maiming bodies…” Troy whispered, splashing water on himself. You had your legs against your chest, hugging them, staring away.

“What’s on your mind? Thinking of ways to kill me in the bathroom?” Troy teased.

“Something like that,” you answered, a slight tone of mischief present.

Troy chuckled, “Always on your toes, ready to strike… like a viper.” He stared at you. Your fingers twitched a bit. He hadn’t forgotten about the photo he found in the Viper bandit camp.

“Those names you carved on the table,” continued Troy, using a cup to splash water on his head, “Anyone you knew or what?”

You remained quiet.

“I did say I’m not that mean like Tyreen, but you are really pushing it now,” Troy growled. He was met with a water splash on his face. “Gah! What the hell?!”

“You left yourself wide open, I struck like a viper. Too bad the water wasn’t venom,” you whispered, biting your lip to suppress a smile.

Troy laughed, pushing back his hair away from his face, “You got me good. Real good.” He splashed water at you, raising his human arm up to cover from your water splashes. Water spilled out of the tub and into the floor, the soaps long forgotten outside the tub. You let out a laugh, immediately covering your mouth, looking away. 

“Wow…” Troy looked at you in surprise, “That’s a new one...”

You bit into your hand. Troy pulled your hand out of your mouth, “Hey, don’t do that.” 

“Out of habit,” you blurted out, sticking your hand into the water. The water stained a bit red around it. Troy grabbed your hand, inspecting it. There was slight bleeding present. He proceeded to lick the oozing blood.

“Of course, you would...” you growled, feeling Troy’s forked tongue on the palm of your hand. He gave you a toothy grin, nibbling at the fresh cut.

“I wasn’t aware I was getting room service with this date,” Troy whispered, leaning forward, “I did say I wanted to taste your tender abdomen flesh…” He pulled you towards him, more water splashing out the tub, “But I have to be gentle, Tyreen wouldn’t want me ripping your organs out…”

You dug you nails on his side, causing him to moan a little. 

“You can’t tease me like that…” Troy whined, lightly tapping his fingertips on your back, “fuck…” He jumped when he felt your hand trailing down, resting on his inner thigh, squeezing it.

“I-I… What…?” Troy looked at you, face flushed. He moaned loud when you squeezed again near his crotch, whining when you pulled away.

“That’s for biting me in my inner thigh…Still hurts like a bitch after three days,” you whispered, standing up from the tub, giving him a view of your wet self. You got out, grabbing a robe to dry yourself, “I’m pruning, skin cuts easier…” Troy watched as you left the bathroom, slamming his fist on the edge of the tub.

“Too good to be true… one day… one day…” he muttered, turning on the showerhead to splash cold water on him. He needed to quell his hard-on. 

\---000---

You laid on Troy’s bed, waiting for him to finish his ‘business’ in the bathroom, judging by the grunts and moans coming from inside. A small smirk tugged at your lips, knowing you were responsible for his current predicament. You at least gave him kudos for being ‘gentle’ and not forcing you to provide oral or a hand job. Somewhere, the priestess must be extremely angry. 

/Father Troy, you dare soil yourself with this creature?!/ He didn’t need any help from you for that. 

You couldn’t pull something like this with Tyreen, but now you got the confirmation Troy was indeed ‘genuine’ in his desire to be submissive to you. Pressing his buttons could come in handy. ‘Could’ being the keyword. The bathroom door opened, Troy walking out, robed. 

“Well, that’s done,” he whistled, letting himself fall on the bed, “Dry my hair.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching out to grab the towel he held. You massaged his head, drying his hair. Troy leaned back on your leg.

“Feels nice…” he muttered, closing his eyes, sighing, “Real nice…”

After a while, you removed the towel, Troy’s hair falling on the sides. He turned to face you, grinning, his piercing blue eyes hinting mischief. With his hair down, he appeared more intimidating. He grabbed the towel from your hands, tossing it to the side. 

“Bed time!” he sang out, throwing the bed sheets out, pulling you to his left side, “Don’t try anything funny.” 

“Like what?” you taunted. He shuddered at the feeling of your hot breath against his skin.

“Hm, let me think. Oh, giving me an erection with your magic hands,” Troy whispered, squeezing you, “Cause then you will have to deal with it, and I get messy…” He felt your growl against his chest. 

“Your voice does the effect, too.”

“Hm…”

“Goodnight, mechanic.”

Goodnight tall monster.

\---0000----

You shot up from bed, screaming, trying to hold on to something. Breathing heavily, you adjusted your eyesight to the darkness, your blood pressure shooting up. Fear bubbled up. 

Familiar surroundings drove you into high alert. 

You were no longer in Troy’s room. 

You were back in the bandit camp. 

Not the Skullmashers.

The Vipers.

“Settle down child, you will wake the others up,” a voice rang from outside.

You got out of your bed, taking notice of other sleeping children in the hut you were in. Stepping outside, you saw an older woman by the fireplace. The old lady Wilkins.

“Can’t sleep huh, same nightmare? That pale monster again,” She asked, taking a drag from her cigarette, “I’d offer you some booze, but you know how the old fart doesn’t want you getting any vices.”

You stared at her.

“What? Got something on my face?” she asked, blowing out smoke. 

“You are dead,” you stated. The Calypsos had attacked the Vipers, only few of them survived, but you never saw her in the return party.

“The fuck are you on? I’m not dead. Help me with cooking breakfast,” Wilking pointed at the bubbling soup in the cast iron pot over the fire, “Feeding you lot and the rest of the camp is not an easy task.”

At this point, you were shaking uncontrollably, sobbing, “None of this is real… You are dead…”

Wilkins looked at you, pensive, “If this isn’t real, stick your fucking hand in the fire!” She gasped as you did, watching you cry out in pain, “What the hell! I was only joking!” She immediately stood up, grabbing your hand, pouring water from her canteen.

Pain shot up through your arms. Your hands bled, smell of burnt flesh reaching your nostrils. 

Had you been dreaming? Were the Calypsos a nightmare? You had to know. Pushing past Wilkins who yelled after you, you rushed into another hut that served as the communal baths. You pulled down on your shirt, looking at the mirror for any signs of the CoV mark on your collarbone.

It was present.

Thousands of thoughts raced your mind. None of this was making sense. You ran out, freezing in your tracks as Wilkins stared at you, holding a gun. 

“Child, they are here for you,” she stated, expressionless. From far off the camp, you saw several bandit technicals approaching. 

“You must eliminate them. Don’t let them get you,” Wilkins ordered, making her way to the bandit technicals.

“Let them get me?! You were the one who-“ you shouted, clenching your fists, “You abandoned me! You didn’t fight for me!” You ran towards her, flicking your wrist but forgetting you didn’t have your dagger. Wilkins kept walking, gun ready. 

“I did what was best for everyone,” Wilkins stated, stopping, turning to look at you. The light of the bandit technicals casting a sinister shadow on her.

“Fuck you!” you yelled, crying.

She pointed the gun at you, “Never let your guard down. Kill them all.” She shot. A piercing pain exploded in your stomach.

You fell to your knees, sobbing, “Why….?!”

“Kill them all, assert your dominance over them,” Wilkins said, her voice distorted as dark figures surrounded you. The entities grabbed your wrists and legs. You screamed, struggling as you were dragged away into the bandit technical. The dark figures placed chains on your wrists and legs.

“Feed upon their fear,” Wilkins continued, “Kill them all until you see red.”

You reached out to her, crying. 

\----0000----

“Must.. kill…! Dominate…” you growled out, digging the dagger into a priest, causing them to scream in pain. Troy woke up immediately, eyes wide as he saw you straddling the priest, stabbing relentlessly. A ceremonial knife laid a few feet away from you and the priest. There was a large gash across your stomach.

“What the fuck?! Hey!” Troy rushed out of bed, stumbling from the weight of his mechanical arm. 

You froze in mid-stab, looking up at Troy, drenched in blood, “I… I.. had to…” Dropping the dagger, you looked down at the disemboweled priest then at your hands.

“He had it coming.” The distant, empty tone sent a chill down Troy’s spine. 

Troy stared at the bloody mess, not sure if he should feel aroused or horrified. He eyed the ceremonial knife, silently cursing. Did someone sent over a priest to hurt you and you were able to take them down in your sleep?

He swore he kept a tight grip on you.

Troy went to the night stand, pressing on the button on the wall, “Get your asses up and make your way to my room, bring the medic and a body bag, NOW.” He heard shuffling, a confirmation pinged.

You got up, shaking. 

Troy made his way to you, grabbing your hand, “Hey, snap out of it. What happened?”

You looked up, shaking your head, “I-I’m not sure… I.. I was dreaming.. and then I woke up stabbing him…” You stared back down, gulping. This overkill spooked you. A pair of armed cultists, followed by a medic and priest entered the room, all of them stepping back at the sight of the dead priest.

Troy pointed at the priest, “You. Over here, NOW.” He motioned the armed cultists and the medic, “Clean this mess up, you medic, inspect her wounds, use my bathroom to wash off the blood. Double time!”

“Yes, Father Troy!” 

The medic ushered you into the bathroom, helping you as you limped forward. Troy glared at the priest who approached him, “Explain yourself. What was this bastard doing in my room?!”

The priest threw himself on the floor, begging, “I-I’m not sure, Father Troy! But I will get to the bottom of this, I promise!”

Troy kicked the priest, causing him to yelp, “No, you find out right NOW or you will end up like this fucking asshole. Gather all the priests, have them meet me at the courtyard. Someone has to answer on trespassing into my room.”

The priest nodded, groveling, “Y-Yes, sir!” He bowed numerous times, running out. The armed cultists placed the remains of the dead priest in a body bag, muttering amongst each other. Troy went into the bathroom. The medic was washing off the blood from you in the bathtub. You were staring ahead.

“Am I in trouble…” you whispered, low and quiet.

This threw him off. He had gotten used to your snappy attitude or being quiet with the occasional glare. Troy shook his head, “No. The medic will get you cleaned up.” He focused on the large gash on your stomach.

“It’s a surface wound, Father Troy. I’ll patch it up immediately,” the medic informed, as if reading his mind.

Troy nodded, “Keep an eye on her, I’ll have an armed guard stand by. Don’t let anyone near her.”

“Yes, Father Troy,” the medic gave a curt nod, resuming his work on you. Troy walked out, managing to hear from you, “I guess that ruins the night date…”

No, you gave him a perfect chance to deliver divine punishment. His flock was getting too comfortable.

\---0000----

“Fucking figures,” Tyreen yawned, stretching her arms out, “I leave her with you for a night and somehow, someone gets killed. Color me impressed, Troy.”

“Shut up,” Troy growled, staring at the priests. He could smell their fear.

“I’m surprised it wasn’t you who maimed the priest,” Tyreen teased, “but my little doll, damn, I wish I had been there to see it in action.”

“I said shut up, Tyreen,” Troy spat out. Tyreen laughed, leaning on the railings, looking down at the priests. 

“So, how do we chalk this up? Someone tried to kill you and my plaything executed them, or someone tried to kill her, boastful about entering your room, and gets shanked by her?” Tyreen asked, amused, “Either way, a win-win for us, little brother.”

Troy growled, jumping down from the balcony. The priests all straightened up, shaking in their spots.

“My dear priests, someone among you has strayed away from the light… I don’t take kindly to that…” Troy said, extending out his mechanical arm, “Someone got a little bold and paid the price with their life…” Two armed cultists approached, carrying his blade.

The priests whispered amongst themselves.

“If the culprit comes clean, all lives will be spared… Deny me, extension to denying your God Queen... and everyone here dies…” Troy smirked, grabbing the blade, slamming it to the ground, “No one trespasses my sanctum… someone needs to learn their place…”

Immediately everyone started to point fingers at each other, sobs of pleas, others throwing themselves at the ground, praying to Troy to spare them. The desperation was getting him riled up. He lifted his blade up high.

“I don’t hear the culprit coming forward…” Troy said in a sing-song tune, displaying his sharp teeth. Tyreen laughed from the balcony as Troy swung down on a priest, body parts flying everywhere.

\----0000----

The medic bandaged up your hands, the stitches had reopened during the assault on the priest, but luckily the original wounds were healed. According to the medic, the burning sensation was from the ceremonial dagger that was heated up to cauterize wounds. The dagger’s sheath acted as a small burner. 

For the moment, you were tucked in Troy’s bed, exhausted. The armed cultists had already disposed of the body and clean up the bloody mess quickly, both of them plus the medic standing outside the door keeping watch. You could hear them talking, one of them commented how they thought Troy had killed you as it was common for his “playthings.” 

Screams from the courtyard filled the hallways, Troy and Tyreen laughs mixed among them. You remained in your spot, trying to tune it out, closing your eyes. Pain, fear. Ecstasy. The air in the room felt cold.

“I give you credit, luring him away from his room,” you whispered, your eyes closed, “using that priest as decoy…”

The tip of a knife tilted your head up as you opened your eyes, looking up at the intruder. In the shadows, the priestess tilted her head, chuckling. 

“Quite perceptive, plaything… I can see why our God Queen favors you,” she said, kneeling by the bed, keeping the knife in its position, “As for Father Troy, stay away from him… he belongs to me…”

You snorted, “Keep him. I don’t like him either way.”

“How dare you make a mockery of him….!” She spat out, pressing the knife a little into your skin, “To think he wastes his time with the likes of you….!”

“Tell me, is he submissive to you behind closed doors?” you whispered, enjoying yourself a bit too much, “Does he let you order him around in bed?” Too many times tempting fate. Maybe this was the exhaustion speaking.

“W-What…!” the priestess clenched her fist. Fire with fire, she can’t ask him to explain himself lest she gave away her intrusion to his room as well.

You tsked, smiling, “How unfortunate…”

The priestess removed her mask, death glaring you. Her long, curly brown hair adorned her pale face, her yellow eyes piercing into you. She was snarling. 

“You… You better remember this face of mine... It will be the last thing you see when I get rid of you…” she whispered, giving a slight cut under your chin. 

Heavy footsteps echoed in the hallways, the armed cultists and medic’s chat growing quiet. The sound of a blade dropping alerted the priestess.

You chuckled, patting the bedsheets, “Better get going, live another day.” The priestess cursed, putting away her dagger. Troy and Tyreen’s voices were right outside the door, both of them arguing about the mess in the courtyard. Running towards the window, the priestess leaned forward, then vaulted out by the time the door opened.

The Calypsos walked in, Tyreen quickly making her way towards you. Troy was once again covered in blood, annoyance written on his face. All you wanted was to sleep at your hut.

“Doll! My brute brother gave you a difficult time?” Tyreen hugged you, pulling away at the covers, getting into the bed.

“Hey! What gives?!” Troy whined, making his way to the bathroom, “You have your own bed, get out!”

“Someone has to keep her company while you go wash off...” Tyreen whispered, resting her head on your chest, looking at Troy, “I’m the one for the job…”

You groaned, slapping away Tyreen’s hand when it went under your shirt. Tyreen pouted, instead opting to locking her legs around you. 

“Ugh, fine, whatever, but you better leave when I get out,” Troy ventured into the bathroom, slamming the door in anger. Tyreen merely giggled, burying her face into your neck. 

“I can still smell the priest’s blood on you…” Tyreen whispered, licking your neck, “Troy said you were stabbing one of them.” She lifted her head up to look at you. You were glancing to your side.

“Something like that.”

Tyreen noticed the nick on your chin, reaching out with a finger, “You’re a cut magnet, doll.” She licked the blood, grinning. You hoped she wasn’t going to start biting you, it was late at night to continue the bloody mayhem. Your eyes were heavy with sleep.

“Hey, doll…” Tyreen said, low for you to hear.

“Hmm…?” Your fought to keep awake. 

“Did you and my brother….?”

You shook your head, knowing what she was implying. Sleep won this time around. You felt Tyreen squeeze you, a small, lingering kiss on your neck.

“Alright…”

\---00000----

The remainder of the night went by without issue. By the time you woke up, Troy was a tangled limb mess around you, Tyreen nowhere in sight. The older Calypso stayed true to her word, leaving the room after Troy finished cleaning up. 

Like Tyreen, Troy had wrapped his legs around yours, locking you in place, his mechanical arm bent at an awkward angle behind you, a pillow was wedged to provide cushion for your back, his human arm wrapped around your waist. Troy’s chin rested firmly on top of your head. Your face was currently pressed against his upper chest area.

You tried moving a bit, only for Troy to tighten his grip on you. After last night’s event, he probably was taking precautions. From who, you weren’t sure. 

The priestess disappeared into the night and judging from the screams you heard, he took it out on someone for the priest’s intrusion in his room. You made a mental note to be on alert around the priests. Even if they were extremely devoted to the Calypsos, one of them made it clear they’d resort to direct confrontation with you. 

Glancing at Troy’s arm, a thought appeared in your mind. Analyzing the intricate workings and wires, you gently poked at some of the metal slots in his arm, feeling Troy’s grip on you loosen a bit. 

“What are you doing...” Troy muttered, yawning, jaw slightly popping.

“Nature calls...”

He lifted his arm up, letting you go. You quickly made your way to the bathroom, locking the door. 

“I’m not going to peek, I’m not into that!” you heard Troy yell, shuffling, “Hey, what the hell did you do to my arm?!”

You busied yourself, trying to tune him out.

“Oh… I can move it better now…” Troy said, “It’s not stiff…”

After finishing, you exited the bathroom, seeing Troy extending his mechanical arm out and bending it. He noticed your presence, flashing a toothy smile, “I don’t know what you did, but holy shit, I can move better!”

You gave him a bored look, “Your arm was not properly tightened at the gears.”

Troy nodded, deep in thought, “I keep forgetting you are also a mechanic, you know, since you tend to maim people.”

Sighing, you made your way back to the bed, sitting on the edge. Troy stretched out more, accidently smacking a chair down, his jacket falling on the floor.

“Ugh, well, my turn,” Troy said, going into the bathroom, closing the door. You heard him whistling and humming. Normally, at this time you’d be in the shop, but you doubted Troy would take it kindly your disappearance. That, and then dealing with Tyreen somewhere in the hallways. Work will have to wait.

Annoyed at the sight of the chair on its side, you picked it up, setting it in place. As you grabbed Troy’s jacket, an item fell off from the pocket. Curious, you picked it up, unfolding it. Fear took over you as you glanced at the contents.

Troy was in possession of a photo from your time with the Vipers.

/Always on your toes, ready to strike… like a viper./

Your mind went back to the Viper bandits captured by the Calypsos. Where were the twins keeping them? Were they going to be used for the next Harvest?

Then there was HIM. The old man sitting in the cage. Alive? Maybe. Temptation rose to ask, but you squashed it. The last thing you needed was the Calypsos prying open Pandora’s box. 

Before you could process this, Troy emerged from the bathroom, yawning, “I’m hungry… I’ll have the jerks bring food here, I don’t want to deal with any of the priests at the moment.”

You were back sitting on the bed, looking down at the floor, “Alright…”

The photo was tucked away back in Troy’s pocket.

\---000----

Most of the morning was spent waiting on Troy finishing his food. For his physique, you were aware of the appetite, but this was plain ridiculous and disgusting for you. Breakfast was a foreign term, even during the time with CoV, you had no concept of it until the mechanics showed you. Out in the wastes, whatever you could find edible was the meal for the day. Lucky if you had a meal a day. Even with the Skullmashers, everyone scrapped by for food.

You stared as Troy scarfed down large chunks of meat, some of it raw. Your plate was empty, having finished a long time ago. A priest had brought in food, but they stood idle behind you. You could tell they were shaking as Troy was staring at them.

“Heard about your buddies, huh?” Troy cackled, swallowing his food, “Offer the lady some ale.”

“Y-Yes, Father Troy...” the priest said, holding the pitcher over your cup. They poured, some of the liquid spilling it. Troy growled.

“Don’t. Make. A. Mess!” Troy slammed his mechanical fist on the table, “Clean it up!”

The priest started cleaning, accidently titling your cup. You caught it, avoiding a spill. Troy laughed, spooking the priest.

“That fear you are having, etch it in your mind to stay in line!” Troy spat out, “Your buddy ended up in a body bag!”

/Feed upon their fear./

You grabbed on to your cup tight.

“I would kill for some fresh meat, probably a bullymong or something,” Troy said, wiping his bloody mouth with a cloth.

/Kill them all until you see red./

You gritted your teeth. Troy ordered the priest to clean up the table as he leaned back on his chair, “So, want to know what today holds for you? Just don’t kill anyone.”

“Right… no arena fight?”

Troy chuckled, “Till tomorrow since you are spending the day with me, courtesy of Tyreen.”

He got up, putting on his jacket, “Let us depart, I have to enjoy the rest of the day!” You followed, glancing behind at the priest who let out a sigh of relief at Troy’s departure. 

Poor bastard.

“Last night’s events were a prelude for today: executions!” Troy announced, grinning as he looked back at you, “Can’t have people forget who is the law around here, you know?”

You grimaced, hands twitching. Troy wrapped his arm around you, pulling you about the area. He explained to you that while majority of cultists loyally follow him and Tyreen, some are led astray. The Calypsos held public executions, sometimes private ones depending on Troy’s mood to go for an overkill. For today, he followed, it would be private executions.

Reaching the area near the balcony, you caught glimpse of armed cultists cleaning up the courtyard. The remains of Troy’s punishment from last night. Tyreen’s words rang in your head about how Troy eventually ended up killing HIS playthings. That sentiment was shared by the armed cultists that were in his room cleaning up the dead priest’s body. 

You cautiously looked up at Troy who was smirking as he stared into several cells with frightened prisoners. Both of you were inside the holding area of the CoV jailhouse known as the “Naughty House” by Troy. He has a way with names. 

“Good morning everyone, Father Troy here to deliver the last rites so you call can reach Heaven,” Troy preached, holding on to his blade, “Confess your sins to reach salvation.”

The entire holding area was filled with pleas and praises for the Calypsos, some of the fanatics seeking forgiveness. All of them tried to reach Troy through the cell bars. 

“Father Troy, please forgive me!”

“Father Troy, I’m a loyal follower!”

“Praise the Twin Gods!”

You stepped back, Troy holding you in place. He grinned.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’re not going to hurt you. I mean, you would most likely stab them, right?” He smirked, giving you a sinister look. You stared down at the floor, avoiding his stare. 

Troy grabbed your hand, leading you outside the jailhouse where several wooden poles were staked on the ground. The area reeked of putrid, rotting flesh. You inhaled sharply, the smell too strong. Troy laughed when he heard you.

“Too much huh? You can handle the guts and blood but not some rotting flesh? You’ll get used to it,” he teased, walking over a nearby platform, still holding your hand. 

‘I never got used to it,’ you thought, eyeing the bodies stacked on the corner of the field. Some sported bandit gear, others were priests and cultists. Gods don’t discriminate classes.

Under the shade, Donovan stood waiting, arms crossed. He smirked when he saw Troy.

“Morning, Father Troy,” Donovan said, bowing. He only stared at you. Troy smacked him on his back, Donovan grunting.

“No need to be formal, its just me and the mechanic, Don,” Troy teased, patting your head. You growled.

“Ah, sure, my apologies, Troy,” Donovan chuckled, “Is she here to watch or…?”

“To watch, don’t need her making a mess,” Troy laughed, “I’m sure Ty told you what she did.”

You groaned, fed up. Somewhere in your shop, laid a weapon or technical waiting to be worked on, but here you were, watching the Calypsos.

“She did mention something,” Donovan glanced at you, then back at Troy, “Shall we get started?”

“Oh, right, right. Let me get my starter prisoner, I’ll be back. Watch her,” Troy went back to the jailhouse, the shouts of the prisoners restarting. You stood a few feet from Donovan, side glancing him.

He had his arms behind his back, watching ahead. Taking a shot, you sat down on the edge of the platform. Donovan didn’t budge.

“I haven’t seen moves like that from a bandit.”

You jumped slightly, looking at him in surprise. Donovan was still looking forward, but kept talking.

“I watched your fights. Powerful display of rage, a lot of it bottled up,” Donovan stating, now looking at you, “If you weren’t a plaything, you’d make a great addition to our Twin Gods’ army.”

“As if I want to,” you muttered, eye twitching.

Donovan huffed, “I said ‘if,’ any other way I would have you killed. I hate playthings,” You narrowed your eyes, letting out a small hiss, more on his comment on trying to kill you.

“The Calypsos can’t always be around you, keep that in mind,” Donovan stated. You clenched your fists, but bit back an insult. You weren’t falling for his trap. 

Troy walked out of the jailhouse, dragging two prisoners who were struggling and kicking. He whistled at Donovan to help out, the latter bowing at you before walking to Troy. You glared at his retreating form. 

The two men tied the prisoners to the stakes, ignoring the pleas of said prisoners. You heard Troy talking to Donovan about having two prisoners for the slice of one, causing Donovan to laugh, slightly punching Troy on the arm. You wondered if they were ‘actual’ friends, considering both shared the same habit of switching personalities on people. So far, Troy hadn’t asked you to come closer to the execution grounds, probably forgot as he started to hack the prisoners who screamed out for help. Donovan kept retrieving more prisoners. 

You stared down at the floor, not wanting to watch. Fighting others was one thing, but executions were another. Donovan and Troy laughed, cracking jokes. This was a hangout for them.

“Oi, mechanic! Get over here!”

Taking a deep breath, you looked up. Troy was waving at you, then pointing his finger down, beckoning for you to go over. Sighing, you walked over. Both Donovan and Troy were covered in blood.

“Sorry about that, I got lost in the lust for divine punishment,” Troy patted your head with his human hand, getting blood on your hair, “You have to watch up close and you get to try it out.”

“What. I thought I was only watching...” You silently begged that you misheard. You have shitty luck. 

Troy laughed, “Donovan, bring out two more!” You watched Donovan retrieve to other prisoners, tying them up on the stakes. The prisoners were crying, begging for ‘Father Troy’ and ‘Prophet Donovan’ to forgive their sins.

From one of his pockets, Troy retrieved a ceremonial dagger, handing it to you, “Use this. Go for it, mechanic.”

You held the dagger, unsure, “I… “

“Do it,” Troy ordered. Donovan observed. You gulped, gripping the dagger as you walked up to one of the prisoners.

“P-Please, don’t…” the prisoner begged, crying and struggling. You had refrained from watching as Donovan and Troy ripped the previous prisoners apart. Now they were expecting you to do that same. 

“I’m sorry.. I’ll make this quick,” you whispered, plunging the knife into their neck, swiping across. In a swift movement, you stabbed into the heart. Not the quickest, but at least you wouldn’t drag it along.

“The hell was that?! You just mercy killed them, didn’t you?” Troy sounded annoyed, grabbing your arm, “I expected more!”

You growled, “I don’t do bloody executions on people that are tied up….” Troy cackled.

“All of a sudden you have morals?” He taunted, letting go of your arm, “You surprise me, mechanic. Kill the other one, this time no mercy kills.”

“No.” 

“What was that?” Troy leaned forward, glaring. 

“No. I won’t do it,” you raised your voice, glaring back. You threw the dagger to the ground.

“Why you-“ Troy began, only cutting short when Donovan grabbed you from behind, raising his fist, about to punch you. Immediately, Troy blocked it, snarling at Donovan.

“The hell you think you are doing, Donovan?” Troy spat out, hissing, his jaws slightly popping, “You know the rules, no one can touch other people’s playthings without permission!”

Donovan huffed, snarling, “A disobedient one she is, Troy.” The taller Calypso was holding you with one arm, the mechanical arm still blocking Donovan’s fist. You were breathing heavily. Closing your eyes, you tried to gain composure, your hands twitching. All you kept seeing was red.

Donovan growled loudly, pulling back. In anger, he punched the remaining prisoner, picking up the abandoned dagger, stabbing the prisoner. Screams resumed. You refused to look, biting your hand. Troy picked up on this, prying your hand out of your mouth.

The dagger was thrown at Troy’s feet as he looked up, Donovan glaring at him.

“I will let this one slip by and not tell Tyreen,” Troy stated, looking at the bloodied, ripped prisoner, “Go stab several at the jailhouse, I don’t want you, too, maiming fanatics out in the streets.”

“Tch, yes, Father Troy,” Donovan sneered, fixing his jacket, making his way past Troy and you. Troy groaned, picking up his blade. 

“You sure are pissing off the wrong people, mechanic,” Troy chuckled, staring at the jailhouse. More screams and yelling were heard, Donovan releasing his anger.

“I guess we can go somewhere else, this private execution session is over for now,” Troy continued, turning around to face you. You were gone from his side, but he saw you were near the prisoner Donovan maimed. With your shaky hands, you closed the prisoner’s eyes, patting their forehead. Troy blinked, unsure what to say. 

You rubbed your bloody hands on your robe, walking towards Troy, “I’m ready to leave.” A flat tone.

Troy nodded, lips thin, “Yeah, me too.”

\----00000----

“Is she okay with this…?” You asked, cautious. You were now wearing casual clothing, not the horrible robes. Besides, they got covered in blood from the execution grounds. You were tying up the laces of your boots. 

“Who, Ty? As long as you don’t take off running, we’ll be fine. Besides, if you placed and set off a bomb in the vehicle, we both go out together! Ha!” Troy said, tapping the passenger’s seat, “Come on.”

You jumped into the passenger’s side of Troy’s bandit technical, wondering how he’s able to drive with his mechanical arm on the way. Troy extending his arm out across your lap, your question answered.

Troy decided to go for a drive on the outskirts of the CoV hub, since apparently others were keen in interrupting his ‘date’ with you. For you, it was more Troy dragging you around to kill things. As you both departed, you saw from the rearview mirror the priestess standing on the upper decks of the warehouse, watching. At least you were going to be far away from her for the moment. 

You leaned back in the passenger’s seat, somewhat enjoying the drive despite that the driver was Troy. So far, he kept to himself, driving. The warm breeze felt nice, reminding you of the days you’d drive your own bandit technical around the wastes, hauling scrap metal. The taller Calypso drove to a rock formation sticking out on the edge of a small cliff, turning off the ignition. 

“We’re here,” Troy mused, getting off the driver’s seat, “Follow me.” You complied, both of you walking on the upslope of the rock formation. You peeked at the edge of the cliff, eyeing Troy. He sat down, letting his legs dangle on the edge. 

“Take a seat, I’m not going to push you off,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone, “That’d be too easy, heh.” You huffed, sitting down at a distance from him, but not too close to the edge. 

Troy sighed, leaned a bit back, using his mechanical arm to steady himself. He stared forward, lost in thought. You, on the other hand, were contemplating the thought of running off. He was giving you an opportunity. What would he do if you decided to jump off? Take off running? You eyed some rocks nearby. Maybe you could try bashing his head in? You didn’t have your dagger or chains. 

“It’s a deep drop, you know.”

You jumped, looking at him. He had a mischievous grin. 

“I’m not that stupid, you were thinking of running off, weren’t you?” Troy mused, licking his lips, “I doubt you want me to give chase, cause then you won’t be returning in one piece.”

“Right...” you muttered, narrowing your eyes.

“How would you do it?” Troy asked, curious, “Enlighten me.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Are you serious...?”

“Yeah, tell me,” his grin got bigger. He crossed his legs, waiting.

“Well… obvious one, push YOU off the cliff, take your vehicle, run away,” you stated, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

“I have the keys,” Troy took them out, dangling them close. You snorted, “I am a mechanic you know, hot-wire the vehicle.” Troy laughed.

“Use some rocks around here, bash your head in,” you continued, “Crack open the skull for good measure.”

“Not before I lunge and bite at your neck,” Troy countered, chuckling. 

“From the first one, you don’t die, try to chase me, I run you over with your vehicle,” you grinned.

“Bandits have tried that, let me tell you, it doesn’t end pretty for them,” Troy laughed, leaning forward, “You’ll probably fly out through the windshield.”

You shrugged, growing bored, “Maybe I just throw myself off the cliff, get it over with.” Troy blinked at this. You looked away, “Doesn’t matter to me, dying in the arena, throwing myself off the cliff.” 

“At least I don’t give YOU the satisfaction of killing me,” you coldly stated. Your hands twitched, gripping on your knees. The Calypsos were aware of your intense dislike of them. Not that it mattered to them to begin with. You were only a plaything for Tyreen. 

A heavy weight was on you, throwing you on your back. Troy hovered, his mechanical arm anchoring you down, his human hand reaching to your neck. He held a dark, menacing look.

“Satisfaction, huh? You keep forgetting, at the moment, I hold your life in my hands,” he growled out, his face close to yours. You smirked, unfazed.

“I hold yours in between your legs,” you replied, your knee pressing on his crotch. Troy yelped, surprise written on his face. 

“You aren’t sneaky, you know. You were getting aroused while I kept talking on ways to escape or kill you,” you chuckled. Troy’s flushed face confirmed your thoughts. 

“Does it rile you up thinking about chasing me down, out here?” you taunted. 

“S-Shut up…” Troy growled out, his breathing became labored as you added more pressure with your knee. He covered his mouth as another moan escaped, bucking his hips. 

“Or thinking about ripping into my tender abdomen flesh? When you pin me down? Ready for the kill?” you kept goading him, watching as he melted into a fit of groans and moans, sweat rolling down his temples. Troy had his eyes shut, his lips slightly parted, panting. 

He whined, increasing the rhythm in movements, gripping tight the ground on your sides.

“And then I plunge my dagger into your head, through an ear, soft, taking advantage of your lust for flesh,” you whispered, smirking. 

“A-Ah!” Troy threw his head back, his body slightly shaking. He fell on you, his face buried on your chest, breathing heavily. You grunted when he came crashing down, pulling slightly away. Reaching for his head, you ran your hands through his hair, earning a soft purr from Troy. 

“And that’s how one of my escape plans would go,” you said, chuckling, “Satisfied?”

“Very…” Troy muttered, his voice hoarse. He reached out to grab your hand on his head, giving it a light squeeze, “Eh, you’re gonna have to drive back… but give me a minute to recover… Fuck…”

“So, you do get messy.”

“Yeah…”

\-----000000------

You were currently sitting in the foyer of the Calypsos’ main living quarters, staring at the dancing flames in the center pit fireplace. Hugging the warm blanket around you, the yelling from one of the rooms piqued your interest. By the time you drove Troy back to the CoV hub, Tyreen had been waiting, angry. For once, it wasn’t directed at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going for a joyride?!” Tyreen yelled from one of the adjacent rooms, “Something could have happened!”

“Nothing happened, she didn’t run off!” Troy spat back, “Get off my case!”

“I wasn’t talking about her, I was about YOU, you idiot!”

“Don’t call me an IDIOT.”

“YOU ARE ONE IF YOU DON’T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME!”

“NOTHING HAPPENED! I’M FINE!”

Last time? What did Tyreen mean by that?

This was the first time you heard them arguing full on, most of time it was them bickering and their regular sibling banter. 

“I almost lost you when that happened…” you heard Tyreen say, her tone changed quickly, “I barely got to you in time, Troy.”

“…I’m fine.”

“We’ll hold a blood ritual for you, I just want to be sure…” Tyreen’s tone was sad.

Blood ritual? Similar to the Harvest? Your mind raced with different thoughts. The Calypsos were very open about consuming blood or generally getting bloody all around, but a ‘blood’ ritual? Deep down you hoped you weren’t dragged into it.

“…Alright… but I’m fine… really, Ty…”

“I worry about you, little brother… Also… what the hell is that?”

“I need to change.”

“Oh… What did SHE do to you?”

“…N-Nothing, can I go now? I really need to change.”

“Pfft, haha, yeah, okay, out!”

You straightened up, pretending you didn’t hear anything as you covered yourself in the blanket. Troy entered the foyer, nodding at you.

“So, uh… awesome date we had, mechanic,” he looked away, taking a deep breath, “I’m gonna go now…” He quickly disappeared into one of the rooms, slamming the door. 

You were delighted by his reaction. Tyreen emerged from the room she was in with Troy, skipping towards you. 

“My little doll, you are a naughty one. That’s the most restraint I’ve seen on him!” Tyreen sat next to you, leaning her head on your shoulder, “Do I get the same treatment?”

“No.”

“Oh, so mean!” Tyreen laughed, wrapping her arms around you, smooching you, “It’s okay, we’ll have our fun time.”

You groaned, Tyreen pushing you down on the seat, straddling your hips. 

“Think of this as your good luck ritual,” Tyreen smirked, snaking her hands under your shirt, “For tomorrow’s Let’s Flay.” Her lips met yours.

You had shitty luck.

\----00000----

Mouthpiece sounded off the alarms, fireworks flooded the arena’s roof as the crowd cheered. The Calypsos, eagerness evident in their faces, waved to their followers when the surveyors approached the platform. Tyreen blew a kiss while Troy swung his blade around in a playful display. Another successful raid, another celebration, another Let’s Flay. 

And the star of the show: You.

You stood in the center of the arena, watching as all the playthings rushed forward to you, guns blazing, grenades cooking, bloodlust at high levels. Drops of sweat rolled down your forehead, your breathing steady enough as you swung a chain in one hand, a dagger on the other hand. Time slowed down all around. Your eyes scanned the area, finding the perfect opening. 

You roared, swinging and whipping the chain against a psycho’s grenade, grabbing it to land on a bruiser, denotating it. The explosion threw the playthings into a frenzy, all starting to shoot at each other. Whipping the chain around to ward off attacks, you landed hits with your dagger, going straight for backs, throats, and heads. 

“FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC! OUR GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING DELIVERS BRUTAL PUNISHMENT!” Mouthpiece sang, riling up the crowd. Crude signs of “Mechanic <3” were seen flashing in the sea of people. The Calypsos were on the edge of their throne seats, watching as their views went up. The surveyors displayed the ‘chat’ feed filled with hearts, skulls, and daggers. 

This time around, you went in prepared, having modified and perfected the wrist dagger and taking in light-weight chains plus your shield receiving a few modifications with the charging mechanism. Maiming, stabbing, and the occasional shotgun blast to the face were currently your gameplay tactics, enough to buy time while you calculated your next move to easily dispose of the playthings. 

“How about we spice things up? We just went over the 2,000,000 view mark!” Tyreen’s voice echoed through the arena. 

“A little more bloodshed doesn’t hurt anyone!” Troy announced. 

You were busy strangling a marauder when they made the announcement, your eyes zoning on a wall opening, revealing a group of badass psychos, chained down. A robed cultist unleashed the chains, getting crushed by one of the badass psychos as the group ran into the arena, swinging their large, spiked buzzaxes. Memories of the first fight flooded your mind. Dealing with one badass psycho was feasible, but a large group of them? Releasing the marauder, you took off running to a higher platform, hearing his screams of pain as a badass psycho finished him off. 

All around were screams of the playthings getting attacked, carnage at all high. The crowd went wild, whooping and cheering for more bloodshed. You growled, managing to dodge a badass psycho’s swing. Utilizing a metal rod, you stabbed the psycho on the neck, causing him to go on a frenzy. 

“LOOK AT HER GO! THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING IS NOT MESSING AROUND!”

Surveying the arena, you spotted an abandoned assault rifle. Using the platforms, you jumped around, making your way to it, avoiding the badass psychos. With the tiniest stroke of luck, the assault rifle had ammo, plus a switch to equip grenades. Taking aim, you began shooting the psychos on the legs, aiming to shred them apart.

Some of them stumbled, dragging themselves on the ground as their own brethren descended to finish them off. You switched to grenade mode, shooting at the clusters of the psychos. Some were unfazed, others got severally damaged, their masks ripping off to show their twisted faces. 

“Strip her flesh!” “Strip her flesh” was all they chanted, “Strip it!”

The crowd whooped, cheered, banging on the sides of the arena. Mouthpiece kept going crazy on the intercom, setting out fireworks and doing replays of the badass psychos getting shot at.

To thin the group out, you went around, shooting the wounded psychos on the head, dragging some with your chains into the arena’s debris, or throwing grenade at the stragglers. Before long, only one badass psycho remained, limping on a broken leg, his buzzaxe long lost.

Aiming, you shot at his head, watching the psycho fall forward, body twitching. You threw the gun to the side, breathing heavily. 

“THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING WINS AGAIN! PRAISE THE CALYPSOS!” Mouthpiece announced, his hologram swooping across the arena. The crowd roared, flashing signs at you, cheering. 

You didn’t bother looking up, instead, sitting on the ground, trying to catch your breath. The surveyors danced around you, the feed across the screens showing you. 

“Hey Troy, what are our numbers?” Tyreen announced, her hologram appearing alongside Troy’s

“Good question, Ty, let’s see… 5,000,000! You know what that means!” Troy sang out, leaning with his hand on his hear, goading at the crowd.

“BONUS ROUND!” They cried out.

“That’s right! Bonus round! My plaything has done such a good job, providing entertainment for all! This one goes to all my loyal followers!” Tyreen announced, raising her arms up, “BRING FORTH THE NEW CONTENDER!”

“Our spoils from the raid of the Viper bandits! The sole survivor of the pre-match fight! Our top-subscribers viewed it and have fallen in love with the old man, who has garnered a small following!” Troy informed, his hologram pointing at the side of the arena.

You quickly stood up, freezing in your spot, as you watched the arena’s opposite wall collapsed, revealing your new rival. 

Clad in black and green armor gear, sporting scruffy white beard and hair, his wrinkled, tan face displaying testaments of years of fight, weary green eyes, the old man before you brought back memories, painful memories. He stepped forward, keeping his tired gaze on you. The crowd went wild.

Standing straight, you stared back, eyes widen. Your legs moved on their own, approaching the old man. He walked forward, both of you stopping a few feet from each other.

“It’s you…” you whispered.

The old man chuckled, spitting out the toothpick in his mouth, “Indeed it is. Same to you, I thought you’d be dead… but I see you wound up with the Calypsos.” He glanced at the Calypsos.

A surveyor descended into the arena, providing live feed.

“WHAT IS THIS?! DID I HEAR CORRECTLY?!” Mouth questioned, his hologram appearing, “DO THESE TWO KNOW EACH OTHER?!”

The crowd began to whisper, mutter amongst themselves, curious. The Calypsos leaned forward from the platform. 

“You have shitty luck, you know?” the old man teased, chuckling, “At least you survived that rat bastard, I’m glad.”

Your blood boiled, snarling, “SHUT YOUR TRAP! ITS YOUR FAULT I’M IN THIS MESS!” Tears threatened to fall.

The crowd roared, excited by the turn of events. Both of the Calypsos looked at each other, then at the arena, surprise evident in their faces.

The old man shrugged, “It’s a tough world out there, child. I only did what I was told, train you to survive. You’re alive, aren’t’ you?”

You growled, clenching your fists, glaring at him, “You fucking prick…”

“This fucking prick has a name, respect your elders,” the old man said, taking out a dagger, flipping it in his hand.

“’Traitor’ suits you fine, Cepheus!” you growled, holding tight to your chains. 

“Before we dance, show your mark. I know you still have it,” Cepheus stated, rolling up his sleeve. A large, scarred upside-down triangle was etched on his forearm. The surveyor got a glimpse of it, showing the entire arena. 

“What is that?” Tyreen asked, looking at the screen.

“No clue… I didn’t see that in the Viper’s camp, ” Troy answered, glancing between Cepheus and you. Both of the Calypsos noticed your extreme, agitated state.

You bit your lip, glaring at Cepheus.

“Show me. The Mark,” Cepheus ordered, extending his forearm out, “The proper way of doing things, child.”

You sniffed, trying to keep calm as you parted your hair on the lower part of your head, turning around to show it to Cepheus. Compared to his mark, yours was smaller, well hidden. The same upside-down triangle. 

“WHAT IS THIS?! SOME SORT OF BANDIT SIGIL?” Mouthpiece announced, bringing up the feed form your mark. 

You kept your eyes on Cepheus, the world around you disappearing. The arena was not from the Calypsos. Electrified wires were scattered everywhere, mesh lining with spikes covered the walls, a rising platform was visible, the shadowed occupants staring down at you and Cepheus. Bodies hanged across the ceiling, light fixtures embedded in their flesh.

“Let’s dance,” Cepheus grinning, lunging forward, “Like the old days!”

You screamed, whipping the chains towards him. Cepheus allowed the chains to hit him, wrapping them around his arms, pulling you towards him. Grunting, you lost balance, meeting his knee on your stomach, pushing you backwards.

“THE NEW CONTENDER LANDS THE FIRST HIT!” Mouthpiece announced, more fireworks setting off. The crowd chanted, whooped.

The Calypsos were shocked, watching as Cepheus landed hits on you, dodging your attacks. You kept screaming and yelling at him, swinging your chains in vain as he taunted you with his moves. This wasn’t normal. Something was off. They had seen you calm, collected in the beginning and unhinge towards the last part of the fights. Now, you were all over the place.

“You have gotten rusty, sluggish!” Cepheus announced, punching you in the face, “You are letting your emotions cloud your judgment!”

You held your face, spitting out blood. At least this time your nose wasn’t broken. Lunging forward, Cepheus kneed you again, grabbing your chains, coiling it around your neck, pulling.

“Perhaps I should deliver you from your suffering, how’s that?” Cepheus taunted, pulling at the chains. You gasped for air, coughing.

“You left us for this joke of an arena? Wasted potential!” the old man cackled. 

“OH NO! THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING IS IN A TIGHT SPOT?! WILL SHE MAKE IT OUT ALIVE?!” Mouthpiece sang out, also on the edge of the platform. The crowd let out a series of gasps.

You tried to punch back, growling and hissing. Cepheus tighten his grip, staring down at you, “You disappoint me, this is not what I taught you. To be weak. To be submissive.”

“Submit to this.. shit…” you spat out, hitting him on his ankle with your spiked ring cuff. He yowled in pain, loosening his grip on the chains. You rolled out of the way, wheezing, trying to stand up. Cepheus laughed, stepping backwards, ignoring the bleeding wound.

“That’s the spirit!” Cepheus hollered out, “Now with more feeling!”

You snarled, whipping at him with your chains. He kept dodging, grinning. Then he took off running. You chased after him, yelling.

“WHAT IS HE DOING?! IS HE RETREA-WAIT WHAT!” Mouthpiece cut off. Tyreen and Troy got up immediately from their spot, watching as Cepheus used the debris from the arena, jumping on the walls to land on the spectator area. The cultists started screaming as he punched them out of the way. You roped several cultists, using them as anchors to jump to the seating area, running after Cepheus.

The surveyors were hot in pursuit on you and Cepheus, dodging several bodies flying around.

“What the hell are they doing?!” Tyreen yelled, snapping her fingers to call the armed cultists, “GET THAT MAN NOW!” Troy took off with his blade, pushing through the armed cultists.

“WE ARE RUNNING INTO SOME TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES EVERYONE, PLEASE STAND BY,” Mouthpiece announced, his feed filled with static.

Cepheus cackled as he ran on the edge of the arena, jumping through platforms, dodging your attacks. You followed, using the chains to move faster close to him, throwing items and some of the cultists at him. Cepheus turned around, skidding, lunging towards you, knocking you into electrical equipment.

Taking out his dagger, he proceeded to stab, grinning as you dodged, using a chain to catch his dagger, flipping it off. You kicked up, causing him to stumble. Taking opportunity, you delivered several jabs to his chest, upper cutting him to fall towards a lower platform. You screamed, landing on him as you kept punching. Cepheus took out another dagger, plunging it to your side. 

“FUCK YOU!” you yelled, removing the blade, stabbing him on his leg. He hissed out in pain.

“Your body remembers! You may block shit in your mind, but your body remembers!” Cepheus laughed out more, also removing the dagger, “Does it remember the ‘sweet spot’?”

You froze. 

“I see it does, hahaha!” Cepheus taunted. You stared at him, then at the armed cultists running towards him. Growling, you whipped some of the loudspeakers at them. Troy descended into the area, making his way to you. 

“STAY AWAY! THIS IS MY FIGHT!” you yelled. Troy pointed his blade at you, “Stand down. Now!”

You hissed out. Cepheus held his dagger close, pointing at Troy, “You Calypsos don’t understand our desire to fight. What you have is child’s play. You can’t keep us in this poor excuse of arena.”

Troy glared at Cepheus, his jaw popping, “Should have killed you when you finished the pre-match.”

You lunged towards Cepheus, both of you tumbling down back into the arena. Troy jumped in, alongside armed cultists. What remained of the crowd held on, yelling and screaming. Tyreen, who had stayed in the platform, watched the ongoing mayhem. 

/What you have is a child’s play./ 

“This is not… child’s play…” Tyreen growled out, her Siren tattoos slowing. 

She kept watching as you jumped on Cepheus, exchanging blows. Both of you had maniacal expressions, while he laughed, you screamed. When Troy got too close, either Cepheus or you would throw something at him to keep him away. The armed cultists got whipped or stabbed. 

She wanted to stop them. But the look in your face, it screamed out lust, extreme desire. Not for blood. 

But revenge. 

It was obvious you had history with this Viper bandit. Tyreen glanced at the EchoNet screen, licking her lips in anticipation.

The follower count and views were skyrocketing, surpassing the 10,000,000 mark. More people were pouring in to watch the fight. Hearts and skulls were filing the chats. 

“ABSOLUTE MAYHEM!” Mouthpiece announced. 

Tyreen looked back into the arena, barely in time to watch Cepheus be punched in the face by you, following by more low blows in his stomach. You proceeded to headbutt him, causing the old man to fall backwards. He kept laughing. The man’s numb feeling against pain was foreign to her. You had long abandoned the chains and dagger, pummeling Cepheus. 

Cepheus recovered, grabbing and twisting your arm, kicking you in the back. You hit his elbow, escaping his grip, swept at his feet as he jumped to avoid, punching you in the face. The two of you jumped backwards, breathing heavily, bleeding and bruised, arms up. 

Troy, who was still in the arena, kept the armed cultists at bay, observing the fight, in amazement, fascination, and slightly in fear. Your first arena and subsequent fights, you were unhinged, but the anger was directed at him and Tyreen. Here, they didn’t matter. Your prey was in front of you. You were waiting to tear Cepheus apart. It was driving Troy on edge.

Cepheus spat out blood, grinning, “Good, good. You are slowly coming back… I was worried for a second that you had gotten soft around these brats.”

You snarled, “You yap too much!” Cepheus and you lunged forward, fists meeting each others’ faces, hollers of insults filled the arena. The crowd were on their feet, waiting, observing, too absorbed to cheer. The surveyors provided close action shots, some of them getting smacked out of the way. 

“Tell me, child. Are the Calypsos treating you well?” Cepheus said, throwing a punch. You dodged, hissing, not answering. He followed up, “You look healthy, been eating? You are plumper than before. At least your bones won’t break easily!” He directed a kick to your thigh, in the same one that Troy had bit.

You hissed out in pain, silently cursing at Troy, stumbling back as Cepheus kept kicking and directed a punch to your chest, throwing you back on the ground. The old man jumped on you, grabbing your throat. Kicking, you tried to push him off. He started to strangle you, throttling. You gasped out for air, managing to release the again trigger on your single ring cuff, stabbing him on the side of his arm. 

Yelping, he was about to get up, but you grabbed him, throwing him down. It was your turn to strangle him, both of your hands on his throat. 

“You asshole! You die here!” you yelled, snarling, “You will pay for what you did to me!”

Cepheus gagged, grabbing on your hands, wheezing, “A day never went by that I regretted what I did…” Tears were pouring of his eyes, looking up at you.

“Shut up!” You held tighter.

“That’s why I left the Vipers, to go with him, to keep an eye on you…” Cepheus gasped, “to make sure you were okay…”

You let go, proceeding to punch him. This time he didn’t fight back. Tears were pouring down your face, “Okay?! You think I was okay?! You must have a fucked version of being ‘okay!’”

“You survived, didn’t you?” Cepheus said, low, blood oozing from his mouth, “You were a monster in that ring… Dominating everyone… feeding upon their fear…”

/Kill them all until you see red./

“Finish the job. Get the kill..”

You stood still, looking down at him, expressionless.

/Feed upon their fear./

Cepheus looked up at you, smiling, “I’m proud of you… There’s so much I wanted to tell you.. so little time… At least I got to see you again…”

Troy observed, waiting for your next move. You were no longer crying, screaming. Only frozen in your spot. He couldn’t hear well what Cepheus was telling you. Cepheus patted your arms, no longer struggling. 

You reached out to Cepheus, your hands on either side of his face, as if caressing it. Cepheus let out a chuckle before yelping, coughing. Troy and Tyreen’s eyes widen as for the rest of the crowd going silent.

You snapped Cepheus’s neck in a twisted manner. The loud, sickening crunch of the bones echoed through the arena via the surveyor. 

“Holy shit…” Mouthpiece whispered, forgetting his feed was on.

You got up, staring at the lifeless body of Cepheus that twitched a bit. Huffing and catching your breath, you ventured towards Troy. The taller Calypso steadied his blade, the armed cultists ready for you. Instead, you walked past them, picking up your discarded chains and dagger, making your way back to Cepheus. You sighed, kicked his body, then headed back to your waiting room, the wall collapsing to allow you entrance.

Tyreen, who remained silent throughout the exchange, was shocked, amazed. She snapped her fingers at Mouthpiece, who was quiet as well.

“THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING WINS!” Mouthpiece sang out, a little hoarse. The crowd, reenergized, whooped and chanted out praises.

“PRAISE THE CALYPSOS! PRAISE THE PLAYTYHING!” They chanted.

Troy stared at the body, then at Tyreen. She held a confused look, but pointed at the EchoNet, displaying the high follower and view counts. This Let’s Flay has been their most viewed episode yet, everyone going wild over your performance. 

As the crowd kept cheering and Tyreen’s hologram showed up to announce the results and provide commentary, Troy walked to Cepheus’s body. He knelt, grimacing a bit at the nasty neck twist. This wasn’t your first time, he was sure. Troy reached to his own neck, gulping. He had spent the night with you, but only a priest had been killed, not him. 

Troy fiddled with Cepheus’s pockets, hoping to find some answer to the mark you and Cepheus’s displayed. In a pocket near his chest, Troy found two pieces of crumbled paper, unfolding both. It was a crude drawing of an old man, a woman, and two kids. A signature was written on the bottom, unreadable. The other piece of paper was a worn-out photo of four people on a bandit technical. 

He recognized Cepheus next to a small child who was holding a wrench, picking at the motor of the bandit technical. The older woman, the same one that blew her head off in front of Troy, Wilkins was standing on the back part of truck. A younger man was at the driver’s seat, flashing a thumbs up at the camera. He flipped over the photo, the only names visible were Cepheus and Cassie Wilkins, the remaining ones were blurred out with dry blood.

Troy looked at Cepheus, “Fuck… you were her father…?”

\----0000----

Cold water rained down on your weary body. The blood from Cepheus was washing off, staining the tiles of the shower stall. After the match, you went straight to a locker room, pushing the priests off when they were trying to usher you into the medic room. A look at your dagger had them running away.

You banged your head against the wall, growling in frustration. Of all things to happen, Cepheus was alive and now you killed him, the last Viper. You had run away from that bloody past, but now, things were going to change and you had nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

A slow clap brought you back to your senses. At the entrance, was the priestess, leaning against the doorframe.

“A feral creature you are, a marvelous display,” she said, clapping still, “No wonder you were able to kill my underling in your sleep… He awoke a beast…”

“Go choke on Troy’s dick,” you were angry, agitated still. Your body was itching to continue fighting. Your mind was exhausted. 

The priestess laughed, “Bold words, plaything… Despite your display, my warning still stands… Stay away from him…” and with that she was gone. Distant footsteps and the Calypsos voices rang through the hallways, alongside the shushed pleas of priests.

Fuckers tattled on you. 

You slumped down against the shower stall’s wall, letting the water drench you completely. You were in no mood to deal with the Calypsos, positive a punishment was coming up. In defeat, you laid there, waiting. 

“Useless! All of you! I gave explicit orders for her to be in the medical room!” Tyreen yelled, walking into the showers. She caught sight of you, “Doll! What are you doing there? You were supposed to be checked out for your injuries!”

She received no reply, you only closed your eyes, tired. Troy was out in the hallway, talking to someone via the EchoNet. The priests looked inside, nervous. 

“The hell are you all waiting for, grab her and take her to the medical room! NOW,” Tyreen ordered, pointing at you. The priests filed in, whispering, making their way to you. 

Hissing, you snapped a bite at them, trying to stand up only to tumble down. The priests backed off, then grabbed you before you hit the tiled floor, picking you amongst themselves.

“Take her to the medical room, start prepping the items I requested,” Tyreen commanded, received curt nods from the priests who dragged you off. You had ceased to struggle. She glanced at Troy.

“Well?” she asked.

“Donovan is checking to see if anyone has seen that symbol before. So far nothing,” Troy muttered, putting his EchoNet away, “The old man mentioned something about the ‘rat from the east.’”

“Huh, those crazy lunatics near the old Atlas strongholds? They never ventured in our area,” Tyreen said, tapping her chin, “Have a group be sent over to check it out, only surveillance. Not to engage.”

“Right, right... Also, I’ll be stepping out of this one,” Troy informed, receiving a surprised look from Tyreen. 

“That’s a first…?” Tyreen mentioned, tilting her head, “Don’t tell me you shat your pants with that neck twist?”

Troy snorted, shaking his head, “One of us has to be present to clean up the mess from the livescream, there were some causalities in the spectators’ area.” Tyreen looked at him in disgust.

“You are going to go eat them, aren’t you?” 

Troy laughed, walking away, “Can’t let fresh meat go to waste, Ty!” He heard Tyreen groan. As he walked away, he took out Cepheus’ and Wilkin’s photos from his pocket, staring at them. There was nothing in the bandit camp that his army had found in regards to the triangular symbol or any signs of other Viper facilities. Then, his mind went back to the lockers at the collapsed hut. He recalled Wilkins trying desperately to reach some items. 

He was going to personally check it out.

\----000-----

The warm water was welcomed by your cold body, relaxing your muscles, alleviating the headache emerging. Working quickly, the priests moved around you, adding powder and liquids to the tub. Tyreen was wearing a simple, thin white robe, watching as her underlings added the final touches to the water. 

A priest helped her into the tub with you, slowly submerging herself with the robe on. The priests then pulled the curtain around the tub, blocking their view inside as they stood guard. You were passing out, waking up in intervals. You whimpered as Tyreen placed her hands on your cheeks.

“Shh…Shh… It’s okay…. I’m here to help you…” Tyreen whispered, her Siren tattoos glowing. You shook your head, trying to pull away.

“G-Get away…”

Tyreen sat on your lap, straddling you in the tub, “It’s okay, relax… my little doll… You’ve been given a good beating…” You felt her pushing your face back into the water, fear crawling in you. 

She was going to drown you here.

You struggled, whining, pleading. Tyreen’s placed her Siren hand on your forehead, submerging your entire body. Series of heat waves coursed through your body, your blood boiling, your lungs screaming for air. The wounds, bruises you received, the pain was high. Your mind screamed for you to push Tyreen off, to kick, but your body was under her control. 

Then, you felt light. Tyreen’s lips met yours inside the water, her Siren tattoos illuminating the liquid. You felt her hand touch your chest, pressing down slightly. Her other hand, the one with the Siren tattoos, was still firmly on your forehead. 

What felt like an eternity, Tyreen pulled away, grabbing you out of the water. Both of you gasped for air. You were shaking, staring at her in horror. 

“W-What did you..?!” your voice was hoarse.

“I healed your injuries,” Tyreen said, licking her lips, “Had to use some questionable items as a conduit to heal you faster.” She splashed the water a bit. Realization hit you.

It was blood. 

Tyreen’s white gown had turned crimson. You looked down at your nude self, dry blood caking your skin. Your injuries and pain were gone. 

“It would have been faster if Troy was here to help out, but he wandered off, surprisingly,” Tyreen removed the water stopper from the tub, allowing the water to drain. She turned on the tub’s faucet, allowing new, clean warm water to fill in. Using a large cup, she began washing off the blood on you, lathering up soap, massaging your skin. Normally you’d fight back, but you let her continue. 

Tyreen hummed a little tune as she washed your hair, splashing more water on you, “Wonderful performance today, little doll. You had me worried for a second when that old man was having the upper hand.”

You gulped, wishing for her not to ask how you knew him. 

Her hands trailed down behind your head, parting your wet hair, revealing the triangular mark. There were no hair follicles within the mark, heavily scarred tissue preventing hair regrowth. Tempted, Tyreen tried to reach to touch it but you grabbed her hand.

“This mark… What is it?” Tyreen asked, pushing your hand away, leaning to rest her chin on your shoulder, wrapping her arms around you. You could feel her wet form against your back.

“Well?”

She heard your breathing hitch, your pulse picking up. Fear. Troy was missing out.

Tyreen laid soft kisses on your shoulder, nipping, “You can’t keep secrets from me, doll. I’ll find out eventually.” She bit down hard on your neck, eliciting a yelp from you as you tried to push her away. She kept a firm grip on you, her hand disappearing between your legs. 

You could feel her teeth sinking a bit more into your flesh, blood cascading down from her lips. Tyreen teased, sliding two fingers into you, curling them. A moan escaped your mouth, bucking at the intrusion. The white-haired Calypso let go of your neck, licking the blood.

“So good.. that little pinch of fear.. I could taste it…” Tyreen panted out, “This time I get to you have you all for myself, no annoying little brother to share with…”

She picked up her pace with her fingers, enjoying your struggle against her. Soft mewls and pleas reached her ears as she inserted another finger. You limped forward, Tyreen letting go of you to brace your forehead from hitting the tub. 

“You are very compliant today, doll.. Also helps that the blood ritual gets you relaxed,” Tyreen chuckled, draping herself over your back, licking the bite wound she inflicted. You grabbed on to the edges of the tub, crying out as she slapped your buttocks. With your skin still wet, the slap hurt more, but it felt pleasurable in your current state.

Your knees felt weak as you let a loud moan, bucking for more friction against Tyreen’s hand. She brought her Siren hand down your back, the tattoos glowing faintly. A heat spot formed on your lower back, causing you to arch. 

“My beautiful doll, you are a killer… A bloody killer…” Tyreen whispered, digging her nails into your back, blood oozing out, “Watching you destroy the other playthings, ripping them apart…”

Screams reached your ears. Desperate, you looked up, seeing the priests who were still present in the room do a playback on the fight. They had moved the curtain slightly to allow Tyreen a view of it. You watched as your insane self chased Cepheus around the arena, screaming, cursing at him. 

Tyreen’s tongue trailed from your lower back up to your neck, licking the blood from the scratches, moaning, “No one has dominated my arena better than you…”

/Dominating everyone… feeding upon their fear…/

Fear. 

Tyreen grabbed your hair, pulling back aggressively, as she continued thrusting her fingers in you. Whimpering, you closed your eyes, losing yourself in the pleasure. 

Dominance. 

Tyreen dominated you. You feared her. 

You were panting heavily, getting close, knuckles white on the edge of the tub, losing the grip sometimes. She bit down hard again on the same spot on your neck, causing you to moan loudly, driven to the edge, limping forward as you orgasmed. 

“Oh G-God…” you whimpered, trying to steady your breathing as your body shook. 

“That’s one of my names, doll,” Tyreen whispered, licking her lips and the bite wound. 

/Tell me, child. Are the Calypsos treating you well?/ By their standards, yes. 

Tyreen pulled out her fingers, flipping you over in the tub. Half-dazed, you saw her lick her fingers, staring down at you with a smirk. She leaned forward, kissing you, biting your lip. Her hands were all over you again, pinching, massaging, your body loving the attention. She grinded against you, moaning in unison with you, panting heavily. Her Siren tattoos glowed, her body feeling hot against yours. 

Cepheus’ laughs filled the room, followed by your screams and punches. You reached out to touch Tyreen’s face, earning a weak grin from her. She held your hands on her cheeks, hungrily looking down at you as she kept her movements against your body. You gazed deep in her eyes, your heartbeat pounding at your ears. 

The playback had gone silent. Your fingers twitched on her cheeks, the crunch of bones reaching your ears as Tyreen whimpered, her body getting hotter. She closed her eyes, letting out a hoarse moan, having reached her peak. 

Cepheus laid dead on the arena floor on the playback.

Tyreen has a pretty neck, you thought.

\-----00000-----

“Are you sure about this? Why not send out a scout group instead of going into that pile of trash? If anything, why go the extra mile for this shit?” Basil said, flooring the technical. Troy was on the driver’s side, staring ahead. The taller Calypso dragged out one CoV’s generals to go with him back to the Viper’s razed camp. Basil, was a large man, wearing full armor gear. He was in charge of the upkeep of the arena and intel gathering for the Calypsos.

“Shut your trap and keep driving,” Troy yelled, leaning back on the seat, “Should have brought Moksha out instead of you.”

Basil laughed, purposely driving over a set of rocks, causing Troy to snarl at him. 

“Lighten the fuck up, man. I’m being serious. That plaything of Tyreen’s has you spooked, huh?” Basil teased, moving aside to dodge Troy’s smack, “Do you know how hard it is to keep that place running ever since she came along?”

Troy kept quiet, crossing his arms. Spooked? In the heat of the moment, a little bit, but the aftermath he was curious and confused. He never paid attention to what the prisoners, cultists, or other playthings had going on in their lives. All of this was new. He didn’t like new. When he stumbled upon an unknown, he wanted to dissect it and find out the unknown’s purpose. Or rip it apart.

You and Cepheus displayed the triangular symbol as some sort of greeting. An unspoken greeting between two fighters. As far as he knew, to the extent of Tyreen as well, you were only a mechanic from the Skullmashers, by luck picked by Tyreen to be her fighter in the arena. Her plaything. His eyes in the cult never reported you training. You spent the majority of your days at the mechanic shop, attend the regular mandated sermon, visit the bar once in a while with the other mechanics, and head back to your hut. Any other time were spent with Tyreen and him. 

The moves you displayed were not typical of a bandit. Those idiots would come blazing guns and hope to land a hit. You, on the other hand, utilized what was on the field, never relying on guns unless you were thinning a crowd. That, and your chains.

Troy had felt the end of that, which gave him excitement. But after watching your recent fight, he was downright eager, itching for a rematch. As long as he didn’t lose his head that is. 

For now, he concentrated in getting some answers. 

“We’re here, Troy. Shit, looks like skags have taken over the place,” Basil commented, jumping off the technical, taking out his shotgun. Troy disembarked, making his way to the Wilkins’ hut. Several skags made themselves home, picking at the remains of the Viper bandits. As Troy and Basil passed by some, the animals hissed at them. A swift screech and his jaw popping open from Troy, they scurried away to hide.

“Ahahaha, that always gets me. I wonder if they think you are some freak skag with your mouth like that,” Basil said, grinning. Troy rolled his eyes, adjusting his jaw. 

A small skag pup was busy nibbling on the dried-up corpse of Wilkins, still stuck under the collapsed roof, skull picked clean, critters coming and going through the bullet holes. Basil kicked the skag pup away, receiving a hiss from said creature.

“Basil, check those lockers, I’ll check these. Break them open,” Troy ordered, reached down to pick up boxes near Wilkins’s corpse. Donovan mock saluted, using kicks to pry the lockers open. Several boxes fell off, including some EchoNet recorders, and cash. 

“Bingo?” Basil asked, looking at Troy. The taller Calypso reached for those items, poking at one of the EchoRecorders. Stroke of luck, it had enough battery.

EchoRecording: XxxX.XXX.XXX

Cassie W.: Cepheus, I have received your letter, can’t believe they let you in… I suppose being a known as the ‘Terror of the Wastes’ in your youth earned you street cred.

Cepheus: Yes, for once it came in handy… How are the kids? The others?

Cassie W.: They are all okay… The kids are upset at me. As are the others too…

Cepheus: Cassie-

Cassie W.: [breaking down, sobbing] I-I’m unable to sleep. I- [static]

End of EchoRecording.

“Is that what you were looking for?” Basil asked, eyeing Troy. The latter checked out the other EchoRecorders, noticing some dates, numbers scratched off. Some of the recorders were in bad condition. 

“Maybe,” Troy muttered, playing another one.

EchoRecording: XxXXXXX

Cepheus: I don’t recognize her anymore. Her eyes are distant.

Cassie W.: Cepheus…

Cepheus: I’ve been put in charge to train her. That’s the only way she’ll survive, Cassie. 

Cassie W.: …Have you fought her yet?

Cepheus: Only in mock fights. Eventually I will, I think. Depending on the roster.

Cassie W.: If you do, put her down. She doesn’t deserve what’s happening to her…

Cepheus: Cassie- [static]

End of EchoRecording.

“’Mock fights’? Some sort of clandestine underground brawls? That still doesn’t explain that symbol,” Basil commented, prying open a box, dumping the contents out to the ground. More photos scattered out, Troy reaching out to them, playing another EchoRecorder.

EchoRecording: XxX

Cepheus: She’s won every match. 

Cassie W.: You don’t sound happy.

Cepheus: [snorts] I don’t know what I should feel. My training is keeping her alive in this damn hellhole.

Cassie W.: ….I told you to put her down.

Cepheus: He won’t let me. [static]

End of EchoRecording.

“You might be on to something, Basil,” Troy whispered, seeing photos of a younger Cepheus wearing a bandit getup as the ‘Terror of the Wastes.’ The background showed the Atlas strongholds in the east.

“Maybe we should pay a visit,” Troy said, getting up, “Grab the items, we’re heading back. Let’s see if the scout group managed to pick something up in the Atlas area.”

Basil began picking the items, huffing, “A visit? For what?”

“To spread the word and gospel of the God Queen, what else?” Troy chuckled, then cackled.

The Calypsos have to dominate the competition.

\----0000-----

Late at night, after leaving the arena, you ventured back to the shop to fix your chains and dagger. Although you hadn’t used the dagger much, it got busted again while blocking Cepheus’s punches and the chains were caked in dry blood, guts, and dirt. Tyreen healed the majority of your wounds, especially after she got rough with you in the medical room. 

At least, you mentally thanked her, Tyreen didn’t pester you into spending the night at their main living quarters. Dealing with a fight and one Calypso was enough for the day. 

As you entered the shop, you noticed you weren’t alone. The mechanic from earlier in the day was there, putting away items. He jumped when he saw you.

“O-Oh, hey! I wasn’t expecting you to come in tonight,” he said, grinning, “Sick fight!” You made your way to the sink, throwing a bar of soap in it, turning on the faucet. The mechanic observed as you dumped your chains in it, grimacing at the sight of blood and guts. 

“So… Congrats on your win…?” He slowly asked, resuming his work. You started to scrub out the grime, humming in acknowledgement. 

“Not quite the talker, huh. I get you, sometimes I get into the zone too, focus on the target. Well, in my case would be the schematics of the guns,” he was babbling. 

You removed your chains from the water, using a cloth to path them dry, glancing at him as he kept talking. 

“Something similar no? Tackling your next move on the spot, like when you are working to recalibrate the gears in the technical,” he said, looking at you. You had spaced out in part of his conversation. Shrugging, you nodded. He grinned.

“Oh… Where are my manners,” he whispered to himself, then stuck his hand out to you, “I haven’t formally introduced myself after all this time. I’m Perseus.” He smiled. What an idiot.

You looked down at his hand then at him.

“What’s yours?” Your eyes widen a bit.

No one in the Children of the Vault bothered to ask your name. Not even the Calypsos. 

Shyly, you took his hand, shaking it firmly. His smile got bigger.

“Andromeda,” you said, smiling back, your expression softening. 

Maybe he wasn’t an idiot after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya’ll, I beat my own record again. 22,000+ words, oh lawdie. I rewrote chapter 2 so many times and this was the version that managed to make it to the final round. As always, I appreciate comments. I tried to spice things up with some sexy times, ha. I’m working on some drawings, hopefully I will get to finish them to illustrate the Borderlands OC characters of mine. 
> 
> The reader’s ‘name’ will make more sense in later chapters if I get to them.
> 
> Edit: I don't know how to remove that stupid extra note under this one that says "it seems this is a one-shot," please ignore that. :V


	3. Seek and Destroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise between the Twin Gods. The Calypsos encounter a new enemy while seeking answers about your past. Some within the cult want to destroy you. Who will survive? The body count rises. And you are caught in the crossfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Extreme physical violence/punishment, mentions of enslavement, torture  
> TW: Mentions of death, anxiety/panic attacks
> 
> Lots of angst. As always, not beta-read, only scrutinized by my cat.

\----0000---

EchoNet Forum: WeHeartCalypsos   
Current Mood: Step on me, Tyreen!

“Did you guys see the mark on the God Queen’s plaything?” “Trippy!”

“Has anyone seen that mark before?” “Mechanic, we (heart emoji) you!”

“Yeah, I think that confirms the Illuminati!” “That’s so 2000, get with the program man!”

“The old man had it too!” “I bet its some secret society!”

“That neck twist tho” “I wonder how the old man and the mechanic know each other”

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Unknown Username: :)

Unknown Username: :) cAlYpSos

Unknown Username: :) U have sumethin that bel0ngs to me.

Unknown Username: :) The (crown emoji) sha11 return to us

[Deleted User]: wAtcH ur backs ;)

[Deleted User has sent an image]

[Deleted User]: ;) 

[Image shows bodies hanging across the ceiling in a triangular formation, light fixtures embedded in their flesh, red light flooding the room of the picture]

“What the fuck!” “Is this shit real?!” “I think so!” “Holy shit!”

“They are still posting!” “But they are showing up as a deleted account!”

“This has to be a joke…” “Quick, someone get an admin!” “OMG!!!”

[Deleted User]: :D Tell her I miss her :3

[Deleted User has sent an image]

[Image shows a blurry photo of you laughing, holding out your hand to cover your face from the person taking the photo. Its visible you are wearing a white shirt, your hair being shoulder length. The background has an overexposed triangle shape mark. It was of blue color.]

[Deleted User]: Everyone misses you… :3c

\---00000----

Being the plaything of the Twin Gods, or more specifically Tyreen, came with perks, but also downsides. Extreme downsides. You weren’t sure if the downsides were fully negative. You needed to vent out, let out the pent-up aggression that you couldn’t inflict on the Calypsos. The meat bags that came along provided the opportunity. Today was no different: Beating to a bloody pulp your would-be attackers in the middle of main square of the CoV hub. 

During rush hour. For all to see. 

You held a lead pipe in your hand, covered in splashes of blood and guts, and a bottle of rakk-ale in the other hand. Tolerating the Calypsos was one thing, but putting up with the stupidity of their followers was another. The poor fools decided to mess with you while on a break from work, barging into the bar you were in and dragging you out to have “fun.” A broken water pipe and three men dead on the street later, you sent the message you were not someone to trifle with. Or that you want a better challenge.

Chugging down the rakk-ale, you smashed the bottle on the ground, ignoring the looks of horror and awe some onlookers, walking back inside the bar. Laughter roared immediately, your fellow mechanics hollering and whistling at the sight of your bloody self. Some of them exchanged money, others clunk their bottles in celebration. You slumped at the bar.

“See, told you she could handle herself. Fucking cunts are no match for someone who faced a Goliath!” one of them cheered, laughing more. 

“Did you hear them begging for mercy? That’ll teach them!” another added, smashing the bottle on the ground, hollering.

“Hey, hey, I need those bottles back you fucking assholes!” the bartender spat out, cleaning the bar. He glanced at you, putting out another bottle of rakk-ale, “Piss luck you got, but by the graces of the Twin Gods you are still alive.”

You chugged the bottle, demanding another one. The bartender complied. Life outside the bar continued, the bodies left to rot in the hot sun. Although you were able to handle yourself against three men, you were bruised up from the recent visit of Tyreen, who got too rough during a massage session. Her face was present on your attackers’. 

One by one, the mechanics left the bar, the last one smacking you on the back to usher you to leave with him. You tossed a few coins to the bartender, following your “friend.” Both of you walked in silence while heading to the shop.

“You stink.” Mood killer.

“No shit,” you replied, “Busted an intestine, guy shat his pants, Perseus.”

Perseus, laughed, “That, and you are still covered in guts. They are what, the sixth group to come after you?” You were warming up to him. After your late night encounter with the mechanic, he declared you his ‘friend’ after exchanging names. He may not be an ‘idiot’ but he was an odd one. You didn’t mind for once.

“I don’t think they are the last ones,” you replied, putting your hands in your jacket’s pockets. The same black leather jacket with flame embroidery given to you by the Calypsos, covered in blood again after being washed numerous times. The first group to try to get a “taste” of you was during a three-day absence of the Calypsos from the hub. You were working in the shop late at night on one of Troy’s bandit technicals when they paid a visit.

Believing them to be rude customers, you shooed them off, getting angry that they disturbed you while working. They proceeded to trash the place. You proceeded to trash their faces onto the bandit technical. Troy was not happy. Not about his bandit technical getting smashed, but the fact you spilled blood on it without him. Though, he complimented that the blood splatter went well with the spray-painted blue flames. Tyreen was disappointed she wasn’t able to record it. 

Perhaps they would like to reenact it with them as the actors. You could only hope.

After that first incident, you were attacked on your way home, to the church, to the supply shop, all of them ending with a large body count and your bruised fists. You’d figure your arena fights would deter them, heck even the bloody fight with Cepheus got people spooked. Perseus said that encouraged some of them more, just for a chance to be the plaything of the Twin Gods.

“Those shits can go ahead and be the Calypsos’ plaything for all I care,” you muttered. 

“Well, that’s difficult considering they currently favor you… Though…” Perseus trailed off. You side glanced him.

“I did tell you the Twin Gods’ playthings end up dead, right?” Perseus continued, receiving a nod from you. 

“Yeah, and like I said, I will perish in the arena, I rather die on my terms than theirs,” you answered, tugging at your shirt to cover the CoV mark. Perseus rubbed his head, sighing. 

“The playthings before you were hardcore, brutish bandits. I mean, hardcore,” Perseus said, earning a glare from you, “Not that I’m saying you’re not brutish, or hardcore. Ugh, you know what I mean!”

You rolled your eyes, both of you stepping into the garage. The other mechanics resumed their work, one of them pointing outside the alley. You sighed. Waving off to Perseus, you headed to the alley, seeing Jackal waiting. He bowed when you approached, taking notice of your bloody state, sighing.

He held his hand out, watching as you removed your jacket, giving it to him. “Any more washes, and the jacket will be rendered useless,” he pleaded.

“Tell that to the shitheads coming after me,” you muttered, crossing your arms, “You got something for me? I have a lot of service work to do.”

“Just the usual note as always,” he said, handing over the letter.

“Ugh, another Troy note?” you opened it, groaning while reading the contents. He was getting bolder with his explicit descriptions.

“That bad, huh?” Jackal mused.

“Yeah,” you promptly discarded it.

\----00000----

The boy shook as he glanced at the various medical instruments laying on a tray, glaring menacingly back at him. Several fluids were being administered, cords of different colors hooked up to the right side of his body, keeping the boy alive. The cold, sterile bed he was on burned his skin. With his blue eyes, he tried looking around for any signs of life, his gaze falling on a figure working on a computer.

“M-Mister…?” the boy said, frightened, “I want my mummy and big sis…” He was holding back tears, hiccupping. The man waved off at him, “Just hold on, almost done here.” The boy heard the man rant about some schematics, foreign terms to the little one. Timid, the boy patted the area where his right arm was missing, taking deep breaths. 

He let out a tiny sob. 

“We haven’t started and you’re already crying?” the man asked, approaching the table. He has wearing a black lab coat over a brown jumpsuit. His deep red eyes bore into the boy’s soul. The boy never liked the color red too much, reminding him of the captors that had him, his mother, and big sister. At least the man’s hair was black as his, all over the place. 

The man grinned, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“Don’t worry, Troy. We’re gonna get you back up and running soon, just bear with me a little, okay?” the man said, side glancing the viewing window behind him, next to the computers he was working on.

Troy nodded, sniffing, watching as the man brought over a mask to place over his nose and mouth. Slowly, he drifted off to a deep sleep, in time to avoid hearing the whirring of a medical saw and incisions being performed on his tiny, weak body. 

The man worked diligently, careful, making cuts, measurements, and checking the monitor for the boy’s condition. Troy was doing well. He kept glancing at the viewing window, somewhat nervous, somewhat irritated. From the other side of the window, military jarheads watched, the Atlas crest shown in the background. 

After making few alterations and testing out some connections on the boy’s new body modifications, the man flashed a thumbs up at the viewing mirror. A scowl was on his face. 

“Excellent work,” a voice rang in the intercom, “Leave details of the modification to our medical staff, you are to be with the child until he is returned to his quarters.”

“Yeah, yeah…” the man muttered, growling. He looked at Troy, narrowing his eyes. If he wanted to, he could have killed the boy, sparing Troy a life of misery, but the boy’s mother pleaded for the man to save her son. His train of thought was interrupted by the entrance of Atlas medical staff, removing and cleaning up the operation room, moving Troy to another bed. One of the staff approached the man, nudging him to follow them.

“No need to push! I can walk fine!” he hissed out, smacking the medical staff’s hand away. The man followed along with the others, chiding and getting after the staff when they were roughly handling the bed Troy was in. They paid no attention to him. 

Through several hallways, they reached a red barrier wall, a staff inputting a code, the barrier coming down. They pushed the medical bed in, alerting a woman and a small child in the room about their presence. 

“T-Troy!” the woman cried out, rushing over, sobbing. The other small child ran over, crying. 

The Atlas medical staff moved away, standing by the door. The man watched the woman and child cry over the boy.

“He will be fine, Leto. I made modifications to his nervous system and muscle attachments, he will be able to use that arm I gave him,” the man replied, voice strained. Leto looked up, eyes teary, sniffing. 

“Thank you…” she whispered, hugging the small child clinging to her, “Look Tyreen, your brother will be able to play with you…”

Tyreen was sobbing, holding Troy’s tiny hand in hers, nodded. Leto placed her on the medical bed, the little girl gently hugging her brother who was sound asleep. As Tyreen leaned forward, the man caught a glimpse of small, vibrant blue dots on her neck.

The telltale signs of a Siren.

The man closed his eyes, sighing in frustration. Atlas had two Sirens under their control. He didn’t say much to Leto and Tyreen, only giving them a curt nod before departing, heading towards the medical staff.

“W-Wait!” Leto called out, rushing over but stopped by the medical staff, “H-How can I repay you!”

The man didn’t turn around, “Stay close to the kids.” And out he went.

\----0000------

Troy rubbed his face, tired, exhausted. He looked at his mechanical arm, some parts were off place as he tried to work on it. With the ongoing raids, he hadn’t had much time to conduct maintenance on his arm and it was taking a toll on his body. Plus, his ‘service’ mechanic was dead. He growled, throwing a wrench to the side, unable to concentrate. 

He slouched as far as he could in his seat, keeping notice about his wonky arm. Troy cursed at his past self for wanting such an extravagant arm for the sake of holding a blade. Those were odd times for him. He eyed where his wrench went, his gaze falling on the photo he found on Cepheus that had you with the old man, Cassie, and the unknown man. It was neatly placed on his main work bench alongside the other photos he and Basil found, taunting him. The more he looked at the photo, the more the man reminded him of someone, especially with the stupid grin he had.

Troy reached out to grab them, staring. With one hand, he looked through all of them, gently tapping the ones that had you smiling, laughing. He bared witness to at least a laugh. One of the photos that caught his attention was of you sitting on the edge of a cliff, looking out at the horizon. He recognized that area being near the Viper bandit camp. It brought back the memory of his ‘date’ with you not too long ago, where you verbally threatened to throw yourself off. In the photo, you were smiling. With him, your face was blank, empty. 

He stared at the photo for a while, wondering what had happened between you and Cepheus. After the arena fight, you shut down, refusing to answer any questions to the point he had to stop Tyreen from extremely punishing you when she got irritated. It was obvious that the history you and Cepheus shared was close since you harbored deep hatred for the old man.

/Okay?! You call this being okay!? I FUCKING HATE YOU!/

Then there was the mark displayed by the two of you. The upside-down triangle etched on your skins. Footage from the fight was carefully sifted through for any other clues, but nothing materialized. The only source available was you and you didn’t budge.

“Troy?”

Troy shuffled out his EchoNet device from his pocket, “What’s up Ty?” 

“We’ll be meeting in the Surveillance Room tonight, so free up your schedule,” Tyreen informed, she sounded exhausted. Dealing with you had put a strain on her.

“About that… I’m still working on my arm,” Troy sheepishly replied, gazing at the mess he had on his workbench.

He heard Tyreen sigh on the other side, “Have one of the mechanics finish it up… Actually, why don’t you go with my plaything? Take the opportunity to see if she spills anything… She’s still mad at me.” Figures.

Troy rolled his eyes, “How convenient, I’ll try but I don’t promise anything.” Tyreen chuckled, “Alright.” And with that the feed cut off. He looked down at the photos, pondering if he should take them. Shaking his head, he set them aside.

Perhaps some other time. He stashed them in a drawer under his main work bench.

Grabbing and quickly fixing what he could on his arm, Troy ventured out of his private shop, shutting the door behind him. The sun was slowly setting down, washing over the hub with a red film. The tall Calypso licked his lips, the red reminding him of blood and guts. As he paced forward towards the warehouse, he stopped in his tracks, grinning. He sniffed the air, relishing the scent of fresh blood hitting his nostrils.

“Father Troy…” the sweet alluring voice beckoned him. 

“Helen… fancy meeting you here,” Troy purred out, turning to face the priestess, “Come here often?” Helen smirked, opening her robe from the front, a fresh cut present between her breasts, blood oozing out. Troy inhaled, eyeing the cut. 

“Only for you,” she whispered, biting her lip.

A small detour wouldn’t hurt, Troy thought. 

\-----0000000------

Perhaps you could jam it, sabotage the exhaust, make it overheat. The coolant could stop working, causing the metal rod to increase friction, making sparks, and then maybe…

“Hey, don’t zone out on me while you are working on my arm.”

You bit your lip, in thought. You stuck your screwdriver into a gear, wiggling it. He can’t catch on fire. Yet.

“Ow!”

Troy feigned being hurt, laughing as you gave him a bored look. He was laying on your work bench, using a vehicle tire as a pillow, his mechanical arm sprawled in parts on another work bench placed adjacent. You resumed your work, fiddling with some screws, pulling wires. The taller Calypso hummed a little tune. It was the two of you in the shop late at night. 

Normally he’d visit in the mornings to pester you, but tonight, he showed up while you were about to leave after closing shop, requesting a one-to-one service tune-up on his arm after it was giving him issues handling his large blade. His former mechanic dead somewhere in the wastes in a recent raid, he said. 

As much as you disliked the Calypsos, they did have better access to machinery and parts for bandits. Marveling on the work of Troy’s arm when inspecting it, you complied in servicing it. From what you could observe, his arm wasn’t placed on the shoulder socket, but dug deep into his chest from the metal plates you came across. The metal collars around his neck served as a weight to balance him while he walked. It must’ve have taken a long time for Troy to get used to and manage the extra weight. 

A brief recollection of your fight against him was enough to gain a bit of admiration for Troy. Tiny bit. 

“Clench your fist,” you ordered.

Troy did as told, grunting. There was brief clicking and pulling of wires when he attempted again. He shook his head, “Its stuck.”

You nodded, taking out a small wire clipper, a bottle of acid, and a soldering iron, “Looks like the previous mechanic didn’t adjust the lengths of the wire holding on the mechanisms connected to your fingers.”

“I tried telling the bastard to clip them, I overwork my arm and the heat of it causes the wire to melt and get stuck in the edges of the compartment,” Troy added, slamming his other hand on the work bench in anger, “Then the coolant is unable to release, and jams the gears, causing my shoulder to lock.”

You unscrewed the main compartment of his arm, five thick wires strung from top to bottom, hooked on to small pistons. Just as he informed you, the ends of the wires were melted, causing the hooks to glue to the other pieces, preventing movement. You absentmindedly tapped him on his chest to get his attention, causing him to jump. From your peripheral vision, Troy licked his lips. 

“Move your fingers.” 

He attempted again, the wires barely moving, the clicking coming from the hooks trying to unstuck themselves. You busied yourself clipping the wires, squirting a bit of acid to remove the melted pieces of the wires, scrapping. Troy watched you in silence, mesmerized. You were engrossed in the work, the sounds of clipping, the soldering iron contacting metal. He shuddered when you plucked at the strings like an instrument, watching as his mechanical fingers moved on their own. 

“Got something?” Troy asked. 

“I will have to replace the hooks, they are too worn out and the original material isn’t heat resistant, that’s why its causing those jams,” you answered. Troy was aware this was probably the most you’ve spoken to him that wasn’t a threat. You scurried off to the scrap pile, rummaging. Troy could hear you muttering about Hyperion and Jakobs parts, throwing pieces all over the place in attempt to look for them. 

“Where did I see it, I know I saw that short dude working off one…” you mumbled, tapping your chin, getting more grease on your face. Troy tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. Your body language was different than normal. Whenever he was around, you’d shrink as if waiting for him to do a move against you. With Tyreen around, you were more agitated, tense, shoulders and arms drawn in. 

Right now, you were relaxed.

Troy drummed his fingers on the work bench, in deep thought. He was tempted to say something, but was afraid of upsetting you. Whatever it was, it was stuck in his throat. Noise of clutter being thrown around and tools being placed near alerted him of your presence again. 

“Got a small piece I can use temporarily. You can’t use your arm extensively until I’m able to sculpture out the parts,” you informed, using metal scissors to cut out delicate hooks, “That means no swinging your blade around or punching things unless you want that arm to collapse.” 

You lightly tapped his metal shoulder-chest plate with the scissors, “The weight will be too much and you, too, will collapse, a lot pressure for the plates. Plus, your connectors on the back won’t be able to handle the strain.”

Troy was baffled with the information overload, nodding, “Oh… How long for the parts...?”

“That depends if I can get some processed parts, preferably Atlas, from the next shipment of scrap. Last pieces were used for the new model guns, trying to cut back on the overheat issue,” you informed, working on adding the new hooks into his arm, clipping and soldering the wires.

Troy was quiet as you kept working. He had expected for you to hiss, growl, or sneer at him throughout his stay in the warehouse since you were still upset with him and Tyreen. Or point your dagger at his crotch. 

He wondered if you were normally like this with the other mechanics when getting into the zone, chattering about the works of machines, parts, and tools. His eyes in the cult would report you hanging out with the mechanics in the bar, playing pool and darts, and the occasional bar brawl. Did you laugh in good company? You only laughed once or twice, ending up biting your own hand to suppress them, a scowl replacing your features when around him and Tyreen. Got worse after the fight against Cepheus, your mood souring whenever he or Tyreen would bring it up. The twins wanted answers, but you refused to give any.

He tuned back in on you. You kept talking, informing him of what to expect with the temporary part, what not to do, what he could do and tips on how to avoid his shoulder mechanism locking up if he wasn’t near a mechanic. He absorbed it all. He could feel your excitement, not bloodlust or hatred. Genuine care for your trade.

Troy was slowly seeing a different side of you. 

“Did you get all that, or do I need to repeat myself?” you asked, concern in your tone. Your face was covered in grease, your hair disheveled, your hands bruised and worn from the mechanical work. No blood, no guts, no anger. Troy shook his head. 

This was a side he was startling to like and wanted to see more. He hoped.

\----00000-----

After shooing Troy off from the warehouse, you made your way back to the hut. The late-night life at the CoV hub was more chaotic than during the day. Bar fights were more common, at times you’d see your fellow mechanics getting kicked out or they kicking someone out to beat up on the street. With your popularity and recent attacks, you avoided the main streets, opting to go through the backways or jumping off roofs. 

As you made your way through the narrow paths behind several shops, a sense of paranoia set in. Stopping, you glanced backwards, finding no one. You gently tapped your wrist, making sure the dagger was ready to deploy. You moved a few feet before a bang from behind a shop made you jump, quickly turning around with your arms up to defend yourself. 

At the intersection of one of the streets, Helen stood in semi-revealing black clothing, a crimson robe wrapped around her, the front open. Her CoV mark was visible between her breasts, some dark spots adorned her skin, a cut was evident. The poor lighting made it difficult to see her face, especially with her hair on the way. You stared at her, narrowing your eyes. She remained in her spot before hurrying off in the opposite direction.

“Huh..” That was a first. Normally she’d try to threaten or hiss at you.

Shrugging, you resumed your walk, unable to shake her odd appearance out of your mind. 

Arriving at your hut, you noticed the door slightly open. Flicking your wrist, you kept your dagger in hand. You’ve been attacked today once, perhaps another one was coming up. Kicking the door, you entered cautiously, scanning the living room and kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place. Your clothes were still strewn on the couch, dishes in the sink, and the small coffee table remained in place. 

You pushed open your bedroom door, gulping. 

On the walls, words of “DROP DEAD” were scribbled in red with dozens of CoV marks around it. In the middle of your bedroom laid the ripped, shredded remains of your black flame-embroidered leather jacket. The same one you had given Jackal to clean.

“Well then…” you muttered, kneeling to pick up at the pieces. The strong smell of gasoline was evident in the garments, some of it bearing burn marks. You sighed in frustration. Now you wished you were attacked, at least you’d be able to see and maim you attackers. 

Kicking at the pile, you checked your dresser and bed for any other surprises. Nothing. Whoever left this behind clearly had access to your hut without breaking down the door. As for the jacket, well, Jackal was the last person with it. He enjoyed setting psychos on fire during the sermons, but he didn’t seem the type to go crazy on you, especially since he was the middle man of the Calypsos. 

Pushing those thoughts aside, you grabbed a new change of clothes, intent in calling it a night. Exhaustion taking over. 

\------00000------

Troy entered the surveillance room, grinning as he patted his mechanical arm. Donovan and Basil were busy chatting at the console, Tyreen was checking several monitors. The white-haired Calypso noticed her brother’s arrival.

“You’re extremely late. Did you get anything?” Tyreen asked, crossing her arms. Basil and Donovan tuned in on their conversation. Troy shook his head, looking away.

“I kinda got distracted….” Troy covered his chest with his jacket, in vain, some bite marks visible, “Wasn’t able to ask the mechanic anything while she tuned up my arm.”

Donovan and Basil snickered, looking away when Tyreen shot them a disapproving glare. She rubbed her face in frustration.

“I swear, you need to stop letting your dick do the thinking every time Helen is around!” Tyreen stomped her foot, growling, “My plaything won’t tell me anything! I figured with you, she’d at least spill something!”

“That’s cause your irritable and lash out at her…” Troy muttered, avoiding Tyreen’s glare, “Maybe if you ask NICELY….”

“All of a sudden you are an expert in these things? You can’t even keep Helen in line,” Tyreen countered, irritated, “Don’t tell me how to handle my plaything.”

“Don’t change the fucking subject,” Troy spat out, getting angry, “You keep antagonizing her, too.”

“Me? Now you’re going to blame me for the others as well?” Tyreen continued.

“Oh, don’t get me started…” Troy trailed off, anger still present in his voice. 

Donovan coughed, both Calypsos looking at him, “Sorry to interrupt, but you want to see this…” 

“We received this from the forums in the EchoNet,” Basil brought up the image for all to see. It showed the transcript of a chat that were talking about the mark displayed by you and Cepheus, the Calypsos’ followers brainstorming and theorizing the origins of it. Further down, an ‘unknown user’ showed up, disrupting the forum.

“What the hell?” Troy approached the console, scrolling through the feed, “How were they able to post shit if they were new to the system?”

Tyreen stared at the feed, watching as the “unknown user’ posted about her being in possession of something belonging to them: You. 

‘:D Tell her I miss her :3’

“This has to be a troll, no?” Troy asked Basil, the large man shrugging. 

“I’m not sure… Whoever it is sent these two photos…” Basil brought up the images of the hanging bodies and the blurred photo that showed you laughing. Troy stared at the second one.

“Anybody around here can have hanging bodies, as for the second one, could be doctored,” Donovan informed, looking at Tyreen. 

“She’s been shot at every angle with our surveyors…” Tyreen trailed off, glancing at Troy, “Troy…?”

“I don’t think its fake…” Troy didn’t break eye contact with the photo. He had seen you laugh. 

“What? Are you sure?” Tyreen seemed surprised. Troy pointed at the photo, making a gesture at your lips.

“When she laughs, her lips curl in a grin, almost cat-like. You can see it there,” Troy enlarged the image slightly, showcasing what he was talking about. Donovan and Basil followed his explanation, Tyreen staring with a blank expression at Troy.

“She laughs,” Tyreen stated, flat, “She laughs with you around.” Her arms rested at her side, her fists clenching and unclenching. 

“Ty, don’t start…” Troy turned to face her. Tyreen had a look of betrayal, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What? Don’t start what?” Tyreen hissed out, irritated, “Just how my brother knows what my plaything looks like while laughing?”

“Hey.. come on you two…” Basil interjected, standing in between them, “We’re here to figure out this mess, not throw fists at each other…”

“This is why I hate playthings…” Donovan muttered, sighing. Basil mouthed at him to shut up. 

“It’s late, I’m just going to back to our living quarters,” Troy said, voice low, shaking his head while shoving past Tyreen. His sister huffed, growling. 

“Tyreen, you should go get some rest…” Donovan turned off the console, “We’ve had a long day, we’ll visit this with a clearer mind.” Tyreen nodded, hugging herself. She wasn’t sure what got her riled up. 

Jealousy? You were only a plaything. 

Then why did it bother her that Troy had seen you laugh when all she got was silent glares and hissing? Previous playthings enjoyed her attention towards them. 

You despised hers. You constantly DENIED her.

It felt as if you viewed everything with her as a chore. A hassle. She hadn’t paid much attention to it when you were first captured, but after several months, it was evident you kept the same behavior towards her. 

Tyreen fixed her jacket, sighing, “We’ll visit this later, you two head out as well.” Donovan and Basil bowed, then watched as Tyreen left the surveillance room. The tension in the room dissipating. 

\-------0000000------

The cool air of the night was welcomed by your body, the warehouse being stuffy from the constant heat of the machinery. You were curled up against the wall, forehead touching the cool surface. Sleeping was difficult to come by at times, old nightmares resurfacing after the fight with Cepheus. 

Fortunately, you were able to sleep a few hours, managing to stay awake for a good portion of the day albeit keeping in mind the horrible consequence of falling asleep while working at the warehouse. At least you had Perseus to keep an eye on you for that matter.

Trying to get some sleep, your eyes shot open when you heard the door to your hut open and close, small footsteps reaching your bedroom door. Gulping, you remained still as the bedroom door creaked. You hoped the moonlight wouldn’t give away your wide-awake position. A soft blue glow filled the room, causing you to immediately sit up, your back hitting the wall as you hissed, snarled. 

Tyreen stood standing in the middle of your bedroom, her Siren tattoos glowing in the dark, staring at you. The glow casted an eerie shadow on her face. You could swear her eyes were glowing as well. 

“How come my brother gets to hear you laugh?” Tyreen asked, not moving. You blinked, caught off guard.

“What…?”

“How come my brother gets to hear you laugh?” she asked again, inching closer to you.

You moved further down the bed, trapping yourself against the wall. She reached out with her Siren hand, you tried to pull away, snarling. With the back of her hand, she touched your cheek, then brushing your hair out of your face. Fear was evident in your eyes, causing her to frown.

“How come my brother gets to hear you laugh,” she repeated again, flat. Your breathing got heavier as she tugged at your hair. You kept eyeing her Siren tattoos. Tyreen’s hands wrapped around your neck, slightly squeezing it.

“I can kill you right here. Leave your body to rot in this hut,” Tyreen threatened, narrowing her eyes.

“…Go ahead…” you spat out, grinning, “I have people waiting for me in hell…”

Tyreen froze, eyes slightly wide.

/When she laughs, her lips curl in a grin, almost cat-like./

You stared her with a confused look as her grip on your neck loosened. She let go, stepping back. Coughing, you rubbed your neck, trying to catch your breath. You glared at her, but blinked as she seemed ecstatic about something.

“You.. You grinned…” Tyreen stated, smiling, “You grinned at me…”

“The fuck are you talking about…?!” You muttered, glaring again.

“Troy was right, your lips do curl in a grin, cat-like!” Tyreen eagerly replied, looking at you with amazement.

Your face got red. Cat-like? Troy said that?

You yelped as Tyreen pounced on you, struggling to get away from her as she gave you kisses on the cheek and lips. 

“G-Get off me!” you hissed out, feeling her getting a bit too grabby. Tyreen buried her face on your neck, nipping. She kept a tight grip on you. You were exhausted, irritated, having dealt with a Calypso late at night and another one crashing at your place. 

Growling, you tried to push her off, “You have your own place, go away!”

You felt Tyreen shake her head, “No, I’m staying the night here.”

“This is my hut!”

“This is my stronghold!”

“….”

“I win...”

\------0000000-------

Sleep won over you soon, Tyreen laying on her back with you on her side, resting your head on her chest. You managed to convince her to use some of your extra clothes as pajamas to drop off the gaudy military outfit she had. She was tempted to initiate something while changing clothes, but a quick growl and hiss from you quelled it. At least you were willing to share your bed with her. 

Tyreen stared at the figures casted on you by the moonlight through the tattered curtains. Your breathing had evened out, letting her know you were out like a light. She still had excitement in her, a small victory to seeing you grin. At least she had something, she thought. Having lost herself in it, Tyreen barely caught on the graffiti in your room.

“DROP DEAD”

She narrowed her eyes, then at the discarded, shredded pile kicked off by the dresser. 

It was the jacket she and Troy had gifted you for your debut fight. She glanced at you, wondering if you had done that. Even after the fights, you still wore the jacket. Perhaps the fight with Cepheus was the breaking point? 

“DROP DEAD”

No, she had seen the feed from your fight with the three assailants earlier in the day, you still had the jacket on. It disappeared after you left the warehouse late at night after finishing servicing Troy’s arm. The only other person who would come in contact with you regarding the jacket was Jackal.

Jackal.

He had been in charge of getting it cleaned up after it would get bloody for your fights.

Tyreen silently cursed, growling. You fidgeted in your sleep, snuggling closer to her. She gently patted your cheek, hearing a content sigh from you.

Someone’s head was about to roll. 

\----0000------

Tap, tap, tap.

You moved around in your bed, using your pillow to muffle the sound.

Tap, tap, tap. Clank!

“Fuck…!”

Annoyed, you looked around in the hut, your other bunk bed buddies fast asleep. Sighing, you got up, wrapping the blanket around your tiny form, walking to the adjacent room. A young man sat on a flimsy metal chair, hunched over a workbench, nursing an injured finger. In front of him laid different parts of a bot, guns, and shields. He was wearing a brown mechanic jumpsuit, the sleeves ripped off. His unruly black hair kept out of the way by a bandana, his tanned skin covered in grease and thick scars.

Upon noticing your presence, he turned around, his red eyes full of concern, a frown adorning his lips. 

“Woke you up?” he asked, quiet. 

You nodded, yawning, “Hepha, you said you weren’t going to pull all-nighters after what happened last time, almost blowing up the entire camp… Cepheus was mad that time…” The man chuckled, sheepishly scratching his nose.

“He’s an old fart, but he wants shit done, so I have to finish this before his client comes to pick it up soon,” Hepha patted the parts, grinning, “Come help me out so I finish faster.”

You raised an eyebrow, teasing, “Whatever happened to the illustrious engineer Hephaestus and needing no help from his baby sister to get shit done?”

Hephaestus placed a hand on his chest, gasping, mock offended, “Its not help, its called collaborative work! So rude, who taught you those ugly words and manners?”

You laughed, pointing at him, “You, dummy!” You approached him, receiving a rough pat on the head by him. Hephaestus brought you in for a hug, squeezing you slightly. You returned it, feeling safe in his arms. 

“We only have to deal with this for a bit longer, okay?” Hephaestus kissed the top of your head, “And we will leave this damn planet.” You nodded, sighing. Waiting seemed to be an eternity.

\----000000------

You stared at the gun parts laying on the workbench in the warehouse, lost in thought. The dream from last night felt so real, vivid, feeling your brother’s tight hug of comfort and safety. The moment you woke up, you were met with Tyreen’s icy blue eyes, a smirk plastered on her face, her arms wrapped around you. It took a lot from you not to kick her off the bed after realizing you were the one hugging her as if your life depended on it. 

She seemed content with the position, teasing you that she would have left earlier if you weren’t gripping too tight on her. This only angered you, but you tried not to show it. Fortunately, you and her parted ways early in the morning, no further incident. A first for both of you.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

You blinked, looking up at Perseus. The mechanic gestured at the gun parts, “You have been staring at those things for the past hour, they are not going to be magically put together. The Twin Gods will be having another raid soon, we need to finish.” He didn’t sound upset, only slightly agitated. Everyone was on edge for this next raid. The Calypsos had been very secretive about it. 

“Uh…yeah… sorry about that…” you muttered, nervous, resuming your work. 

“You need to take a break from work when they go off on the raid, you’ve been all over the place after that fight with.. you know who… Take it easy, okay?” Perseus said, worry in his tone. Before you could respond, he patted your head, brushing some hair off your face then walked back to his work bench, missing the small yelp you let out and a small blush on your cheeks. 

You touched your head, feeling the ghost touch of Perseus’ gentle touch. Shaking your head, you tried to squash the little monster in the back of your head that was laughing. 

\----00000----

The Altas medical staff were furiously writing, typing at their computers with the current observations transpiring before them. Tyreen was waving her finger around, watching as small little red orbs appeared and vanished. Troy looked on in amazement as their mother, Leto, watched in slight horror. The man that had operated on Troy remained behind the staff, observing.

‘A Siren from the wastes, how pitiful,’ he thought as he approached the door leading into the family’s quarters, “Going in, I need to service the brat’s arm.”

“We are not done yet,” one of the staff informed.

“The white-haired brat is only compliant with her brother alive, you want that to stop?” he spat out, growling. He had learned from Leto that Troy and Tyreen were fraternal twins. When Atlas captured them, they wanted to get rid of Troy as he was weak, sick. The moment a Crimson Lance soldier was about to shoot him, Tyreen manifested her powers, killing the soldier. Whatever she did, Troy was healthy once again for a short period.

The boy depended on his sister for survival. The girl depended on her brother to survive Atlas.

The medical staff buzzed him in, the barrier keeping the family in coming down. This spooked them, Tyreen and Troy huddling with their mother. When the twins saw it was the man, they relaxed, running towards him.

“Mister, mister!” they shouted, clinging to his legs, “You’re back!”

The man patted them on the head, giving them a slight smile, “Yep, came to check up on Troy’s arm, come on.” He gently picked up Troy, Tyreen hanging from the man’s arm, giggling. He set them both on the medical bed, Leto giving him a nod of acknowledgment. 

Troy sat on the bed, extending his arm out, knowing this routine. Tyreen remained by his side, watching. The man opened small compartments on Troy’s arm, inspecting wires and gears, poking and prodding with his instruments from a small tool box he had set next to Troy. The boy gazed curiously at them.

“Wow, that’s a lot… you use them all?” Troy asked, shyly. The man chuckled, still working, “Yep, every single of them plays a part in my work. The bigger tools I have were used to create your arm and connectors.”

Tyreen glanced at the back of Troy’s head, “That wire thingy?” The white-haired Calypso was about to touch it but received a firm scolding from Leto.

The man snorted, “Yeah, don’t go touching that. Your brother is still healing in that area.”

“But it doesn’t hurt,” Troy stated, reaching towards the back, “Big sis healed it…”

The man raised an eyebrow, screwdriver tilted in his hand. Leto grimaced, slightly nodding.

“The pain medication wore off… Tyreen healed him…” Leto whispered, eyeing the viewing window from a far. 

Tyreen grinned, squeezing her brother’s arm. The man frowned slightly, realizing now why Atlas brought him in for the boy’s operation. 

With Troy alive, Tyreen would be able to manifest more her powers. 

Sighing, he reached out to pat Tyreen’s head, the little girl chirping, “Hey, do me a favor okay? Try not to use this special power of yours when those jarheads are around… Only at night if possible.” Tyreen blinked, tilting her head.

“…Okay…” she whispered, looking at Leto who nodded slowly. Their mother reached out to hug Tyreen, kissing her on the forehead. 

With that said, the man closed up Troy’s arm compartments, patting the arm gently, “Should be good for now, I’ll come by later.” Troy grabbed the man’s hand, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

“Can you show me… how to fix my arm…?” Troy asked, eyeing the tool box, “I want to help…” Tyreen bounced over from Leto’s arms, “Me too!” The man shushed them both, the twins covering their mouths.

“If you behave, maybe I will,” the man teased, patting them both on the head, “You two are so cute.” He leaned forward, grinning, “I have a kid sister about your age, she likes to mess with my tools and gadgets, good to see other kids wanting to learn as well.”

“Can she come play with us?” Tyreen asked, timid, “Troy gets angry when I win games…” She glanced her brother who huffed, crossing his arms.

The man sighed, “I’m afraid not… at least for now…” He said the last part hushed, “I think she’d get along with you two, but keep this between us and your mom, okay?”

The twins nodded, eager. The man helped the twins off the bed as they rushed over to their small playpen in the corner of the room. He watched as Tyreen ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at Troy’s arm, tracing the orange and red lines marking his mechanical hand. Atlas colors.

Leto approached the man, whispering, “What is the status..?”

“Check Troy’s arm when lights are out,” the man said, and out he went. 

\-----0000-----

Tyreen sat on her lavish throne, bored, looking at some priests who were chanting and praising her. The morning seemed to drag on forever, memories of last night at your hut fresh in her mind. Your little grin, even under threat or danger, was worth it. It excited her, finally getting a glimpse of it. Then, there was the feeling of your body against her when you hugged her tight at night. 

It had caught her by surprise, since she is the one usually dishing out the physical affection. You never let go, whimpering when she tried to move, tightening your grip on her. She would never admit outright, but it was the first time, in a very long time, that she had a good night’s sleep. And it was with you when it happened. At least no one was killed like in Troy’s case.

Tyreen closed her eyes, imagining your small whimpers and breathing against her neck, your hands resting on her back, relaxed and warm. When she massaged your head, you let out a small giggle, leaning to the touch. No frowns, no glares, no hissing from your relaxed, sleeping form. She liked that. The rare times you’d spend the night at the Calypsos’ living quarters, a scowl would be on your face while asleep. 

She wanted to experience more, although she was unsure how to proceed. The situation with Cepheus had strained interaction between you and Tyreen, especially when she was about to punish you for refusing to answer any questions. Troy had to intervene. 

“My God Queen, Jackal has arrived,” one of the priests informed, bowing. Tyreen smirked, nodding.

“Let him through,” she commanded, sitting up straight. Jackal entered the main hall, a nervous expression on his face.

“You summoned me, my God Queen?” Jackal asked, bowing.

“Yes,” Tyreen responded, her voice laced with irritation. She grabbed an item at her side, throwing it at Jackal’s feet. 

It was your shredded jacket.

The moment Jackal saw it, he gasped, looking up at Tyreen, extremely nervous. She smirked, enjoying the fear.

“Explain yourself, now.”

\-----00000000-------

“Think you are fucking tough, huh? Our God Queen isn’t around to protect you, plaything,” the cultist shouted, holding a baseball bat with nails stuck to them. The other two behind were holding lead pipes. It was the middle of the day, the warehouse supervisor kicked you out after you had fallen asleep. It was most likely to prevent the wrath of the Calypsos for falling on them should something happened to you. 

Now you made three new friends at the alley on your way to the hut. 

“Get lost,” you muttered, sleepy. This only angered the trio.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and take the beating, can’t let our lady friend down,” the cultist muttered, grinning manically. 

You tilted your head, curious. Lady friend? The fuckers that had been attacking you recently were sent by someone?

“Oh, pray tell, who is this lady friend of yours,” you asked, inching close to them, rolling up your sleeves, “Does she happen to be one sending your other friends I killed as well?”

“Tch, as if we are going to tell you!” the cultist with baseball bat shouted, lunging towards you. The other two shouted as well, following the cultist’s lead. You dodged the first few attacks, easily avoiding their secondary attacks, immediately punching the cultist that had the baseball bat. 

With a swift swing, you knocked the cultist back, hearing a crunch on the jaw. They hollered out in pain, stumbling backwards. The other two tried to swing at you, one of them hitting you on the shoulder and face. Utilizing this opening, you grabbed their arm, twisting it and headbutting them. They shouted in pain, holding their noise, their arm limp on the side. Their remaining friend tried to lay a punch, but was met with the butt of the baseball bat on their forehead, knocking them back. 

“F-Fucking damnit!” the cultist with the bleeding noise shouted, “F-Fuck!” You landed a punch on them, their blood splashing on you from their nosebleed. Swinging again the bat, you knocked them out, watching as they fell to the floor. 

“Shit! S-She’s gonna kill us!” the other cultist shouted, cowering on the ground, “H-Have mercy!”

“I’m the last person to ask for mercy…” you spat out, swinging the bat down on their face, shutting down a loud scream. You kept swinging, and swinging. Every hit let out a sickening crunch, splat of flesh. You were panting heavily, bringing up the bat up and swung hard down. 

You moved to the other cultist knocked out on the floor, swinging again, beating the cultist’s face to a bloody pulp. The remaining one shrieked, falling down as they held their broken jaw, trying to escape.

Walking slowly, you taunted, throwing the bat at them, watching them jump in fear. The cultist wailed, now sobbing. Pressing your foot on their back, they squirmed, struggling. Normally you’d do quick work on your attackers, but right now, you wanted to see red.

Red. Red. Red. The other two dead cultists were beautiful with their crushed faces.

You grabbed the cultist’s head, a hand on their jaw, slightly tugging. They cried out in pain, shrieking. You licked your lips, the fear in their eyes stirring something in you. Something deep. Something feral.

Something carnal.

You let out a small giggle, smiling as the cultist’s expression turned to pure horror. If you wanted to, you would be able to pull the cultist’s jaw clean from their face.

“Andromeda!” 

You froze, glancing at the source of the voice.

Perseus was staring at you, your fingers grasping at the lower jaw of the cultist, ready to rip it off. His eyes were wide in surprise, slightly in fear.

“What the fuck, man! What is up with you?!” Perseus asked, carefully approaching you, “You just beat them up, not maim them! I mean, you kill them, but not overkill!”

“I..I-I don’t know…” you said, low, throwing the cultist aside as they whimpered in pain. You grabbed your head again, wincing, “I.. I just..”

Perseus pulled you away as the cultist dragged themselves off, passing out on the ground. He grabbed your hands, trying to get a look at your face. 

“Damn, they landed a nasty hit on you… I haven’t seen you this crazy outside the arena…” Perseus said, taking out a handkerchief from pocket to wipe blood from your nose. You remained still, tense as he gently cleaned your face. Perseus held a concerned expression. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, come on…” Perseus helped you off from the alley, making way to the bar. It was still the middle of the day, the bartender letting you and Perseus in the backroom to clean up, even throwing a bottle of rakk-ale at you. You sat on a makeshift bar stool, holding a cold pack on your cheek. The mechanic opened a first aid kit, taking out some alcohol and gauze. 

“I wasn’t expecting to run into you beating up more people... well, attempting to kill them… You looked out of it…” Perseus commented, dousing a gauze with alcohol, wiping at the cuts on your cheek. You winced, looking away.

“What’s wrong?” Perseus asked, worry in his tone, “Does it have to do with your last fight..?” It was always Cepheus. You had shitty luck. 

You grimaced, nodding slowly, “Y-Yeah…”

“I see… Still spooked, huh? I have noticed you tense up when the other idiots bring it up. You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to,” Perseus informed, continuing on your cuts on your hands. You watched him as he inspected the cuts, gently holding your hand. Your hands were more scarred than his. Most of them were not from mechanic work.

“He was my father.”

Perseus stopped, glancing up at you. He was holding your hand still, feeling you squeeze his. 

“You killed him then…” he whispered, resuming his work. He didn’t sound angry or upset. 

He sounded sympathetic.

“Well.. he wasn’t actually my father… I thought of him in that way… until…” you trailed off, wincing as Perseus bandaged your palm. 

Perseus remained quiet, now looking at you. You stared back at him, an odd feeling swelling up. For once, in a long time, someone was willing to listen to you, not forcing it or threatening you. The time you had come to know Perseus, despite being devoted to the Calypsos, he didn’t hold an ill will towards anyone. If anything, he was the jokester of the mechanics, trying to humor everyone through the long days and nights of working on service parts or finishing up jobs for the Calypsos’ raids.

He had become a huge fan of yours after your debut in the arena, which you had found annoying at first since he would quickly talk and babble on about the fights non-stop. But, after his fanboy phase weathered off, reluctantly, he was slowly chipping away your walls with a simple smile or joke. At first, you thought he was doing this to get near the Calypsos through you. This sentiment was quelled when you first were ambushed, running to the warehouse to make sure you were okay before checking on Troy’s damaged technical. His reason: you are his friend, he was worried. 

“You know I was a bandit, right..?” You asked, still staring back at him. Perseus nodded. 

“I… I was living with the Vipers for a while, they took me in… I was an orphan,” you continued, looking away, holding Perseus’s hand, “When I was a teenager… I was given as tribute to a bandit leader in the east…” You were slightly shaking.

Perseus placed his other hand on top of yours, hearing you continue, “I..I was offered, given away by the same people I thought were my family…” You sobbed, covering your face with one hand. Perseus looked at you, hesitant, unsure.

He took a deep breath, wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. You froze, then relaxed.

You hugged back, clinging and shaking, crying into his shoulder, “After all the time I spent with them… they discarded me….to save their own skins…” 

Discarded or killed.

Perseus rubbed your back. You could feel him tense up as you continued. 

“The woman whom I viewed as a mother, threw it in my face that I had no family, no value…” you sobbed, rubbing your eyes, “Until that day…”

/That’s why I left the Vipers, to go with him, to keep an eye on you./ 

“Shh… you don’t have to continue…” Perseus whispered, cupping your face in his hands, “A little at a time, okay?” He smiled warmly. You sniffed, nodding, smiling back. Although it was small, you felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders. 

Perseus ruffled your hair, “Promise me that you will rest? Just go to your hut, chill.”

“I-I promise…” you said, hiccupping, “Still on your break?”

Perseus grinned, “Yeah, want to get some drinks since we’re here already? Celebrate another victory against those idiots!” 

You laughed, picking up your rakk-ale bottle, “Way ahead of you!”

Perseus observed you, noticing the cat-like grin on your face, chuckling.

You didn’t bite your hand this time.

\----0000------

Donovan threw a knife at a prisoner, laughing as they yelled in pain. Troy was next to him, grinning. Both were back in the Naughty House, Troy’s right-hand man was in a good mood.

“You look like you struck the jackpot, what is the occasion?” Troy asked, holding his mechanical arm. He wasn’t able to use it as per your orders, lest he wanted to limp with a heavy weight piece of metal.

“Oh, nothing… just got inspired by Tyreen’s plaything,” Donovan said, throwing another knife. This one landed on the prisoner’s chest. Troy raised an eyebrow, curious. Donovan had made it clear he didn’t like you.

“Inspired?” Troy inquired.

“I’m surprised you haven’t seen the security feed from the warehouse,” Donovan chuckled, “Were you with Helen this time around?” He smirked when Troy shot him a look. 

“Shut your mouth,” Troy hissed out.

“No need to take it out on me, that’s why we’re here. I could feel the anger radiating from you when you stepped into my training room,” Donovan taunted, tossing a knife at Troy. The tall Calypso growled in anger, throwing the knife with great force towards the prisoner. It landed ways off, the prisoner sobbing. 

“Shitty aim,” Donovan teased, dodging a punch from Troy, “Not my fault you are having problems with your lover.”

Troy didn’t reply, heading towards the prisoner and immediately punching them with his mechanical arm. The loud, screeching of metal echoed in the execution grounds, Troy hissing out in pain. 

“Fucking shit!” Troy yelled, smashing the prisoner’s face in, “SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!” Donovan watched amused as Troy released his frustration, whistling as the prisoner was beaten up. He stepped back when the Calypso got more aggressive, blood and guts splashing everywhere.

After a while, Troy stopped, breathing heavily.

“Feel a bit better?” Donovan asked, looking at him expectantly.

Troy let out a hoarse laugh, “Yeah… “ He rubbed his face, smearing blood on it, “She’s been getting on my nerves, can’t have a good fuck without her bringing up stupid shit.”

“About?” Donovan untied the prisoner, watching as the corpse fell forwards, gesturing for an armed cultist to dispose the body.

“How Tyreen keeps goading at her that she’s not good for me,” Troy informed, looking down at his mechanical arm. He sighed, viewing some gears getting jammed. 

“That bad huh?” Donovan mused, crossing his arms, “Tyreen always makes up her mind when it comes to your….’bedwarmers’ as she puts it…”

Troy growled, “She’s not a bedwarmer…” Donovan raised his arms in defense, “I’m only repeating what she says, you do you man.” Troy went to sit on the viewer’s deck, tampering with his arm, Donovan following him.

“She did start as one…” Donovan muttered, looking away, “Can’t fault her if you don’t announce she’s the main one.” Troy hissed at him.

“Tyreen won’t let me,” Troy admitted, “Says that I will eventually get tired of her…” His voiced went low. She wasn’t wrong, previous ‘bedwarmers’ had been favorites to lovers, but quickly they were ushered away at her discretion. Helen has been the longest, though Troy attributed this to her being a high priestess. They both had easy access to each other. 

“Are you?” 

“Am I what?” Troy spat back. 

“Getting tired of her,” Donovan asked.

“….No,” Troy answered. He hesitated.

Donovan got up, leaning slightly towards Troy, whispering, “She’s the one that ratted you out when you took Tyreen’s plaything for a joyride… Thought that would help her get in Tyreen’s good graces….” He patted Troy’s arm, walking off. 

Troy closed his eyes, clenching his fist. Another prisoner was going to get maimed.

\----000000----

As much as you wanted to rest, the glaring “DROP DEAD” graffiti was still present in your room. Using an old shirt and water, you scrubbed at the letters, grateful that the paint was of shitty quality. That’s when you realized it was blood. Weird choice.

You dunked the shirt into the water, squeezing, watching the pink swirls on the surface. Shaking your head, you continued cleaning, satisfied with the clean surface. After disposing of the water and cloth in the bathroom, you ventured back to your room, eyebrows furrowed.

Where was your ripped jacket?

You recalled kicking it off to the side, so you checked under your bed and the dresser. Nothing. You went back to the bathroom, no signs.

“That’s… odd…” you muttered, rubbing your head, confused for once. The little monster in your head whispered a name.

Tyreen.

Tyreen had been in your room while you slept for the majority of the time. Fear crept up on you. Had she seen the ripped jacket thinking it was you who did it? Is that why she left in the morning smiling and happy? She was going to punish you for it, wasn’t she?

Trying to keep calm, you went back to the bathroom, splashing water on your face. You had nothing to do with it, Jackal was the last person in possession of it. Despite the shit you put up with the Calypsos, you ACTUALLY liked the jacket, helped keep your dagger out of sight during fights. Plus, you also liked the flame designs on it. Not that you were going to admit that to the Calypsos.

Sighing in defeat, you accepted the inevitability. You threw yourself on your bed, groaning. You stared at the wall, your mind casually reminding you of the situation. 

Living with the Skullmashers, being the only survivor of the Calypso raid, taken prisoner and made into Tyreen’s plaything, fighting in the arena for the Calypsos’ Let’s Flay, and now your old past catching up to you thanks to Cepheus. You hoped Perseus wouldn’t tell anyone, having spilt part of it to him in the heat of the moment after beating up your attackers. 

The nightmares continued, your mind resurfacing painful memories. The cold air, the heavy chains on your wrists and ankles, the disgusting stench of death… And red. All of it red.

You blinked, realizing you were twisting your pillow, the seams already torn. Growling in frustration, you threw it aside, watching the filling fly all over the place. So much for cleaning. 

You screamed into your bed.

\-----0000000------

“How have you been, Troy?” the man asked, servicing the boy’s arm. Troy remained still, looking at the man’s tools, “Okay…” The man slightly frowned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, continuing his work.

“I don’t like the colors of my arm… reminds me of those… soldiers that took us in…” Troy whispered, glancing at his sleeping mother, Tyreen was busy fiddling with some blocks next to her. 

“I see…” the man replied. During his schematics brainstorming, he had gone with the regular, usual Atlas colors to please the jarheads. An idea popped up, the man grinning. 

“I have something, just give me a minute to finish,” the man said, patting Troy’s head. The boy giggled, eager. After doing quick work on the boy’s arm, the man took out some paints from a smaller tray under his main tools, setting them out. 

“How about it? I paint something on your arm?” the man smiled as Troy nodded.

“Y-Yeah!”

“Alright, stay still, let the artist get to work,” the man ruffled Troy’s hair, taking out some small brushes and towels. Curiosity got the better of Tyreen, who crawled over to them. She sat next to Troy, holding his other hand. 

The twins watched in amazement as the man painting flame decals, lightning bolts and elaborate lettering on Troy’s arm. By the shoulder mechanism, he painted the circular surface red, drawing in black a skull. Troy let out a tiny squeal, excited. 

“T-That’s so cool, mister…!” Troy said in awe. The man grabbed another type of paint, ushering Troy to lean forward, “Stay still.” Troy was smiling as the man painted several red stripes and dots on his face. 

“I-I want some too!” Tyreen said, sticking her arm out. The man chuckled, complying, painting red figures on her arm, including some smiley faces and cats. 

“Make sure to have your mother wash them off, don’t rub your face and stain your clothes,” the man instructed, the twins only nodded, staring at each other. They both squealed, babbling on about their marks.

The man observed them, a vacant expression on his face. This was a small token of happiness for the twins who had no idea what Atlas had in store for them, at least in Tyreen’s part. The man was very familiar with it. Sighing, he closed up his tool box, bidding the twins farewell. 

As he left, the red barrier came up, blocking the family in their cell. He passed into the observation area, ignoring the medical staff trying to scold him for the paint job. When he reached the vast distant hallway connecting the observation room to the stronghold’s main area, he glanced up at the various paintings on the wall, his gaze falling on a regal one with older looking woman. Her face showed extreme testament of war, her expression hardened, glaring at the viewer with an eye, the other patched up with a red skull on it. The same design the man put on Troy’s arm. 

He stared at the plaque under the painting.

“Supreme Commander Gaia Juno of the Crimson Lance, Promethea’s Lord Protector”

The man glared at the painting, growling. He felt slightly guilty realizing what he did on Troy’s face. 

He had given the boy the same Siren marks that Commander Gaia sported on her face.

\------0000000-------

Tyreen was watching the live feed setup by the scouts of the Atlas stronghold, the bandits going about their business as usual, not knowing they were being watched. Moksha, the general in charge of the warehouses and armory, had notified her that all was ready for the raid. Donovan and Basill were at the main console, analyzing the blueprints of the stronghold. 

“I didn’t think this place would be enormous… from the outside it looks small,” Basil commented, going through different floor plans. 

“The Atlas corporation had the means to create several large strongholds across Promethea, this one is the closest to us,” Donovan quipped, “I almost got killed by a Royal Guard of the Lance back in my day as a bandit lord.” 

“And now they’re dead,” Tyreen said, sitting up, “Damnit, where’s Troy?” 

Donovan glanced at the door, “Shouldn’t take long, I hope. I left him at the execution grounds.” Tyreen rolled her eyes, “He better not show up all bloody, the stench of guts never leaves this damn place.”

A woman wearing heavy gear entered the room, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. Her green eyes observed the generals and Tyreen, surprised, “Sorry I’m late, had to finish tallying up the ammunition and checking on the warehouse supervisors.” 

“We’re still waiting on Troy,” Basil crossed his arms.

“Troy? He was at the warehouse looking for a mechanic, said he busted up his mechanical arm,” Moksha informed, titling her head, “From the looks of it, he really screwed up the rods and gears on it.”

“Oh, shit,” Donovan muttered. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to leave him alone in the execution grounds. 

“Mechanic?” Tyreen asked, “My plaything wasn’t there?” Moksha shook her head, “She was sent to her hut early, she fell asleep on the job by what the supervisor told me. Has been going on for a while.”

Tyreen blinked. She wasn’t aware of the issue. She made a mental note to ask about it, hoping you wouldn’t snap at her. 

“So what happened to Troy? Is he still at the warehouse?” Donovan checked the warehouse feed, no signs of Troy.

“He went to look for Tyreen’s plaything, said she was the one who last serviced it, he looked a bit nervous…” Moksha said, grinning, “From what I hear, the plaything has a nasty attitude when people mess with her work.”

Tyreen was very familiar with it, her brother knowing the full extent of it when his bandit technical was trashed during your first ambush. You had a calm face when explaining to them the reason why there were body parts in the engine. The Calypsos were extremely excited and turned on during your tale.

“Very well then, we shall proceed, Donovan can keep him up to speed,” Tyreen chirped, heading towards the main console, “Show me what you got. Need to see what we can destroy.”

\----000000-----

You sniffed, disgust evident on your face. It was taking a lot of willpower not to throttle the man in front of you. Troy looked like a lost puppy skag, standing in the middle of your living room, covered in blood and guts, most of it centered on the mechanical arm that had seen better days.

“I told you not to mess with your mechanical arm, and what did you do?!” you shouted, huffing.

“I messed with my arm…” Troy said, glancing down, voice low. He felt like a little child being scolded. 

“Fucking damnit, one job! You had one job! Grr…!” you grabbed his mechanical arm, causing him to yelp, “See, I told you it was going to fuck up your gears, but no, you just had to go maim someone!”

Troy didn’t respond, looking down still.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” you hissed out, grabbing his chin, tilting it up. He averted his gaze, a tint of red present on his cheeks.

“Its hardly the time to be getting turned on by my threats! You could have gotten yourself pierced by the rods snapping!” you yelled, growling. Troy now stared at you.

“You care…?” he had a small teasing grin. You merely pinched his nose, “I’m being serious here!”

Troy rubbed his nose, pouting, “Yeah, yeah. Well, I need this fixed…”

“The shop doesn’t have the parts I need to fix the wires, all scrap went for your stupid raid,” you muttered, poking his forehead. 

“I may have some.”

“Have some where? All scrap is at the warehouse!” You crossed your arms, “I doubt you have a magical garden of scrap.”

Troy seemed unsure, deep in thought before responding, “At my private shop… If I show you the scrap, would you be able to get the wires, hooks fixed..?”

“You… you have a shop…?” you asked, surprised. Troy didn’t strike you as the type for mechanical work, all he ever wanted was blood, sex, and probably bloody sex. 

“Yes, I have a shop…” Troy growled, feeling judged, “Would you be able to fix it..?”

You rolled your eyes, “I need to see the scrap metal, then I can tell you.” 

“Fine, follow me,” Troy gestured towards the door. You followed, hoping he wasn’t wasting your time.

\---00000----

“Holy shit…” you whispered, observing the tools on the walls and work bench, “I-Is that a diamond grade saw…?” You hunched over the equipment, letting out a small squeal, “Oh… that’s a freaking 6000 edition Dahl laser cutter… That’s a Jakob’s forge…!”

Troy eyed you with a mixture of confusion, surprise, and amazement. You were mumbling and ranting about things that could have happened to him in the process of ruining his mechanical arm but the moment you stepped into his private shop… your mood changed dramatically. You were practically bouncing around, identifying the tools and machine parts he had. 

Your hands shook as you pointed at the large hammer and anvil neatly laying near the forge, “You’ve got to be shitting me, you have a freaking Atlas Thor class anvil and hammer? The freaking metal is so rare only a few were made!”

“That rare, huh?” Troy watched you, amused, “Well, I guess I’m lucky.”

“The things… I could do with it…” you whispered, spacing out.

“….What would you do with it…?” Troy teased, earning a glare from you.

“Get your mind out of the gutter…” you hissed out. Troy laughed, “With you, I can’t!”

“Ugh, whatever, show me the scrap to get this shit over with…” you growled, following Troy where he had several canisters of scrap metal sorted out. You knelt, rummaging through the pile that had -Atlas- labeled on it. 

“While I’m looking, get as much as the guts off the damn thing, arm will get rusty in some parts with chunks of flesh,” you waved off at Troy, already grabbing some scrap, “Looks like you got something here…”

Troy nodded, venturing off to the large sink he had. He groaned, noticing the amount of flesh stuck in the small nooks and dents of the arm. As he washed, he kept glancing at you from time to time. You were putting the scrap you had gathered in a small metal bucket, heading to the forge.

You looked around, lost.

“Cabinet on the far right, some gloves, tongs, and molds are there…” Troy informed, resuming his own work. You flashed a thumbs up, heading over to retrieve the materials. Soon, he heard the whirring of the laser cutter and scrapping of metal. You were already working on creating the hooks, Troy surprised at how quick you started. 

“You don’t need the measurements?” Troy inquired. You shook your head, “Nah, I already got it memorized…. Just don’t distract me… I have to….” You zoned out, meticulously concentrated on the mold working. Troy blinked, nodding to himself. Well then, he thought.

He left you to your own devices, the Calypso resuming his work to clean as best as he could his mechanical arm. Knowing from experience, it was best not to disturb an artist at work.

\----0000-----

You carefully inserted the wire through the small hole on the robot’s knuckle, feeding it and pulling it out through the end, grabbing it with a tweezer. You stuck your tongue out in deep thought, accidently biting yourself when the wire snapped. 

“F-Fuck!” you hissed out, crushing the wire more. 

“Hey, language!” 

Sniffing, you glared at your brother who was at his work bench, finishing up another job for a remote client. He raised an eyebrow at you, sticking his tongue out.

“I hope you bite yours soon,” you said, albeit mumbled as your tongue stung. Hephaestus blew a raspberry at you. 

“So rude, I miss my cute baby sister who was very docile and mindful of her language,” your brother teased, dodging a wrench thrown by you, “Hey, what did I tell you about throwing tools?”

“Aim where it hurts, in the balls.”

“N-No! Not that!” your brother shouted.

“Who what in the balls?” a woman’s voice startled you both. Cassie Wilkins entered the work room, carrying some plates with food, “I better not be hearing you teaching your sister that foul language, Hepha.” 

“I-I didn’t Cassie… I swear!” Hephaestus said, nervously looking at you. Giggling, you nodded, watching as Wilkins looked at your brother in disappointment. The old lady sighed, placing the plates in a small table.

“Hepha, besides teaching her foul language, you are also teaching her lack of taking breaks!” Wilkins scolded him, hands on her hips, “She’s going to end up all scrawny and with body pains before she is a teen!”

You gasped, laughing as your brother put on a sad face, sniffing. The three of you laughed, Wilkins going over to you, giving you a hug, “Oh dear, what shall we do with your brother?”

“Stick him in the fridge, see if he chills for a bit with his foul language,” you teased, grinning at your brother.

Hephaestus snorted, a small smile at the corner of his lips. The small mechanical right arm laid forgotten on his workbench while he ate with you, chattering about some modifications. A fresh coat of red paint and a black skull adorned the shoulder section.

\----00000-----

Donovan chuckled, watching the surveillance feed of the warehouse. He kept repeating the same scene over and over again of your brief fight with the three assailants. Amused, he took notice of the interference of Perseus, the mechanic taking you away as you held your bloody hands. 

“Small fry you sent to the plaything,” Donovan commented, leaning back on his chair. The body by the console shuffled, Helen appearing before him. 

“I should say the same to you. Your little men were no match for her,” Helen hissed out, taking out her ceremonial dagger, “You are afraid of fighting her in person.”

Donovan growled at her, standing up, “Watch your fucking mouth, bedwarmer…”

“I. AM. NOT. A. BEDWARMER!” Helen snarled, slamming the dagger into the console in anger, “He loves me…. Troy loves me… And I’m not going to let some stupid plaything get in the way!”

“You are fucking delusional,” Donovan taunted, “Save yourself the trouble and let go, don’t end up like the others before you.” A small shred of sympathy the general imparted on the priestess. He had gotten tired of seeing a moping Troy. 

“Delusional? I have devoted myself to him and the God Queen…” Helen muttered, “You’re the one delusional into thinking a plaything will take my place… She will be discarded eventually…”

“Think so? She’s lasted a lot longer than the other playthings as well. Besides, we both have seen her ferocity in the arena, nothing matches up to that level of brutality, Tyreen is not going to let her go,” Donovan sat back on his seat, “Troy has turned his attention to her.”

“SHUT UP!” Helen shouted, clenching her fist, “She doesn’t even like him…”

“Like that matters to Troy, besides…” Donovan smirked, approaching Helen, “You should watch your back… You’ve been getting too comfortable around Troy… Others have taken notice…” The general patted Helen on the head, the priestess smacking his hand away. He laughed, departing the room. Helen growled, turning to punch the screen that had your frozen image.

All is fair in love and war.

\----0000------

You held your hands under the running water, slightly whimpering. The hot water stung the small cuts on your hands, the slightly large gash on your palms burning. Troy turned off the faucet, holding out a towel.

“Put your hands there, I’ll dry them,” he ordered. You did as told, flinching as he patted them dry with both hands, his mechanical arm back in order. You had gotten a bit too eager while reassembling his mechanical arm, forgetting to wear heavy duty gloves and a wire snapped as you worked on it. You used your hands to prevent the wire from hitting Troy. 

“I don’t remember your hands being that bruised,” Troy commented, glancing at your face. The bruise from the punch was still present.

“….I had a little incident on the way to my hut….” You replied, pulling your hands away from his grip in the towel, “Do you have any alcohol I can use…?” 

Troy sighed, going to another cabinet to retrieve a bottle of alcohol and a clean cloth, “Another ambush?” This time he didn’t sound too ecstatic as before, getting annoyed at the frequent cases. 

“Yeah…” your hands twitched, remembering the feeling of the broken jaw under your fingertips. A small tug and…

You hissed as Troy swapped alcohol on the cuts, taking a deep breath, “God fucking damnit….”

“Such foul language,” Troy teased, biting his lip, “I wonder…”

“No.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Troy looked up at you, innocently. He eyed some chains discarded on the floor.

“You are imagining it, and no, I won’t chain you up on the work bench,” you blinked, then grinned, chuckling, “Actually…”

“Oh..?” Troy perked up, liking your change of tone. You licked your lips, trying to contain your laughter. Whatever you had in mind… it was going to be fun.

\-----00000------

Tyreen snorted, then sniffed before erupting in laughter. Troy threw a pillow from the couch at her, embarrassed.

“I shouldn’t have called you…” Troy growled out, hiding his face on another pillow. The tall Calypso was nursing a bruised ego from his encounter with you. Thinking you were going to indulge him in some weird kinky foreplay, you left him chained up on the work bench and left the shop. Luckily, or by your grace, he was able to ping Tyreen to come help him. A few awkward talks and Tyreen freeing him, he was completely duped. 

“Oh, little brother, you are a delight sometimes with my plaything,” Tyreen laughed more, avoiding another pillow, “I’m not even mad, I’m just… Pft.. HAHAHAH!” This time she was hit by a pillow, though, her laughter didn’t cease. 

“Shut up!” Troy muttered, running his hand through his hair in frustration, “This stays between us, okay?” Tyreen nodded, throwing a pillow back at him. 

“Yeah, yeah… whatever,” she waved off at him, giggling, “So how’s the mechanical arm? My little doll fixed it?” Troy extended his arm out, moving his hand around. It felt lighter, more flexible. There was no grinding of gears, hissing, or odd noises. 

“It feels fucking fantastic… You should have seen her work… I mean….” Troy nodded, unsure how to explain it, “She found more crap in it… that even I was not able fix beforehand… I felt like she… she just dissected me…”

Tyreen furrowed her eyebrows, “What…?” 

“I mean, I get into my zone while working in my shop, you know? She just…” Troy waved his hands around, “The way she uses the tools… Not as an extension of her but as PART of her…”

“Yeah… I’m not following…” Tyreen muttered. Her brother would go off tangent whenever he’d start ranting about pieces and mechanical equipment. As kids, she would get excited, but after learning more about her Siren powers, her attention waned. 

“She’s amazing…” Troy blurted out, eyes wide, “Oh..” He looked at Tyreen.

Tyreen narrowed her eyes, upper lip slightly twitching, “……You know the rules, Troy.”

“Yes, I know,” he hissed out, avoiding her gaze.

.::No one is allowed to touch another person’s plaything without permission.::.

“Hmph… speaking of rules,” Tyreen leaned back on her seat, a smirk replacing her scowl, “Your bedwarmer needs to learn her place.” She didn’t flinch when Troy crushed part of the couch he was sitting on.

“Helen is not a bedwarmer!” Troy got up, snarling, “Get it through your thick skull, Tyreen!”

“You were lusting after my plaything just five minutes ago,” Tyreen stated, drumming her fingers on the armrest, “Certainly speaks about loyalty.”

“Why you….!” Troy growled.

“Sit down.”

“Tyreen-“

“SIT DOWN, Troy,” Tyreen’s Siren tattoos flashed brightly, her eyes glowing. Troy looked at her defiantly, but sat down, glaring. Their roles were vastly different behind closed doors, away from everyone’s eyes.

“Your fucking bedwarmer did this,” Tyreen threw your shredded jacket at Troy, “Jackal told me everything.”

Troy looked at the shredded clothing in confusion, “What..?”

“That’s all I’m telling you,” Tyreen stood up, her eyes still bright, “Tell your whore to stay away from my plaything. If she refuses, I won’t be as nice as I was with your other favorites.”

Tyreen stormed off, stepping on the shredded jacket. Troy yelled in frustration, kicking the couch. 

\----0000----

“I thought I told you to rest, damnit,” Perseus said, putting you in a headlock, rubbing your head. You laughed, smacking at him to let go. The other mechanics joined in on the laughter, raising up their bottles.

“Can’t rest, always some shit coming up,” you sat next to Perseus at the bar, ordering a drink. Night fell on the hub, bringing out the ruckus from the mechanics that mingled after work. For once, you felt lonely and searched them out, missing their banter at the warehouse.

The mechanics ranted to you about Moksha’s visit and how everything was prepped for the raid. It was their warning for you to prepare for another arena fight. One of the mechanics informed you about armed cultists inquiring about the dead bodies near the warehouse. You blurted out that it had been another ambush.

“I swear, they better find those shits that keep sending those extra shits coming to get you,” one of the mechanics slurred out, taking a swig at his bottle, “Fuckers think they some hot shit….” You weren’t sure who ‘they’ was referring to, but you nodded in agreement.

You were chugging non-stop the booze, angry, slightly drunk, “I tell ya, if they find those meat bags, I want them to meet the lead pipe.”

You got several whoops, bottles rising up.

“You give them hell, I join too, I bring me chair to lay a few hits,” Perseus added, clanking his bottle with yours, “I can’t feel my arse now.”

Everyone laughed, some falling over to the floor, passing out on the spot. The bartender crossed his arms, “You lot are lucky I love you all, smacked you with the broom if I had to.”

“Ey, to the bartender for being such a good sport!” a mechanic yelled. Everyone whooped, those on the floor letting out a long “yay.” Some showered the bartender with coins. 

“Hey, there’s a tip jar for that, you little shits!” he yelled, but laughed. 

A good vibe had settled in. Several bottles of rakk-ale were littered everywhere. You were slumped at the bar, trying to toss coins into the tip jar. Majority of the mechanics were passed out by now, sleeping on the floor or against the wall. The bartender swept around everyone, picking up bottles that weren’t in a tight grip on the sleeping mechanics. 

Perseus sat next to you, watching you make it in with a coin toss, lifting his bottle up, “Another win for the God Queen’s plaything…!”

You mocked whooped, “The crowd goes wild…!”

Perseus laughed, taking another swig, “Brutal finish… You should get some rest, and I MEAN IT, if our God Queen and Father Troy return victorious from the raid, you know what that means…”

A celebration. 

“Yeah, yeah.. They’re gonna have to come pick me up from my bed by then, too fucking tired…” you muttered, struggling to stand, “I’ll see you later.. maybe… I don’t know.. what time is it?”

“Time to sleep…” Perseus passed out, beer in hand. 

“Right, right,” you slurred out, patting his cheek, making your way out of the bar. It was still the middle of the night as you tried to navigate through the streets again. You were too plastered to care if anybody tried to jump you. 

Nearing your housing complex, you felt a sharp pain on your back. You quickly turned around, stumbling to the side. Oh right, intoxication.

“Ah shit, show yourself, you fucking arses…” you said, Perseus rubbing off on you. You could feel blood staining your clothes.

You were disorientated when someone slammed into you, pushing you backwards. Grunting, you tried to sit up, only to feel a heavy weight on you, a sharp object under your neck. You could smell a sweet, soft scent from your attacker. 

It was the psycho priestess. 

“It’s the pretty lady,” you whispered, “How are you? I’m doing fine…”

She hissed, digging her knife into your skin, “You.. Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

You blinked, “I’m a mechanic.. plaything… fighter… I don’t know. Depends on the day and occasion.” You giggled, unfazed by blood oozing out of your cut. 

She brought up the knife to your face, “You think this is funny? You think this is funny! How about I gouge your eyeball out?!”

“That’s not nice, I need my eyeball for work, I have a family to feed,” you ranted, trying not to pass out, “worked to the bone, no rest for the wicked.”

Helen had a confused expression, narrowing her eyes, “You fucking bitch!”

“I’m what now?” You looked at her, baffled, “Look, I gotta go home. I need to sleep. Come by some other day.” You pushed her off, getting up. Dusting yourself off, you waved at her, “I gotta go… places to see, bodies to maim…”

You stumbled to the side, luckily dodging another attack from Helen, “Hey…” You flicked your wrist, holding the dagger in your hand, “Two can play… the game…”

She stood up, playing with the knife, licking it, “Heh, a knife fight, a language we both speak.” She lunged forward, you grabbed her arm and twisted it, pinning her to the ground. Using her feet, she kicked you on the side, making you lose your balance. You cursed, landing on the ground. She stabbed several times down, you rolling around to dodge. 

“Even drunk, you’re still a fucking problem!” she yelled, jabbing again with the knife. One of them managed to land on your arm, causing you to howl in pain. Using your dagger as decoy, you flung it, making her dodge, with the opening used to punch her. She fell on top of a pile of rubble, screeching. 

“I’m gonna kill you!”

“…try me…” you slurred out, ready again. She was about to run at you when the sound of metal on metal rung, caused you both to cover your ears. You knelt, dizzy. As the noise ceased, you looked up. Helen was gone. 

“Lucky…”

Heavy footsteps approached you, a cold hand on your injured arm. You glanced up, seeing Troy’s icy blue eyes staring down at you. 

“Hello…” you whispered, poking at his mechanical hand on your arm, “is cold…” You giggled as he helped you up, “What’s up…?”

Troy was quiet as he gently picked you up. You rested your head on his chest, patting the exposed skin, “You’re warm, soft, but warm…” You could feel him tense up, “I’m bleeding…!” You raised your arm up for him to see.

“Can you kiss it well?” you asked. He complied, his tongue licking the blood. A tingling sensation went through you. 

“I said kiss it, not lick it…” You brought your dagger up, bloody from the fight. 

“Any other day I would be happy to, but right now, as much as it hurts me, I must pass,” Troy whispered, walking back to your hut, “You need to rest, you did a good job with my mechanical arm.”

“Mhm…good job…” you passed out in his arms, “yeah…”

Making sure his hold on you was tight, he proceeded towards your hut, eyeing the blood trail going the opposite direction down another alleyway. 

He knew the source, having tasted the delicious flesh.

Troy entered your hut, keeping steady as he closed the door with his foot. You were lightly snoring, gripping tight on his jacket. When he placed you on your bed, you never let go, whimpering. Sighing, he removed it, caressing your cheek as you curled up with the garment. 

“I have shitty luck…” Troy whispered, planting a kiss on your forehead.

\----00000-----

Cold, cold. The shackles around your wrists and ankles were heavy, extremely cold, burning against your skin. Sniffing, you hugged your knees, hoping to get some warmth, but the room you were in remained the same temperature. Frigid, freezing. 

Your once long locks of hair were gone, you head shaved cleaned, a nasty mark burned on the back of your head. You eyed the other occupants of the room. Other prisoners were huddled together, their face frozen with a look of horror. One of them had their teeth chattering. 

The metal door hissed open, Cepheus walked in, chewing on a toothpick. You let out a growl, but remained on your spot.

“Save your energy, I’m not here for you,” he muttered, whistling for others to come in. Two individuals sporting black uniforms approached the other prisoners, dragging them out. Your eyes widened.

You had been in the same room as frozen corpses.

Gulping, you lowered your head, frightened. Cepheus shot you a look, exiting the room. The same two uniformed people brought in more prisoners, shackling them to the opposite side of the holding cell. Then, they left. 

You avoided their gaze. You could hear their quiet pleas to ‘god’ and wondering if they were going to die here. From the quick glance of their entrance, their hair had been shaved off, wearing the same sterile white clothing as you.

What seemed like minutes, turned to hours, perhaps days, you weren’t sure anymore. Cepheus would enter, met by a hiss or growl from you and leave. The same uniformed people would come in, take the frozen corpses with them, bring in new meat bags. You were the only one left behind. No matter how much you pleaded to the entity in the universe, death never came. 

You had shitty luck.

This routine continued, you slowly devolved to grunts, hisses, snarls at Cepheus. Every time they’d bring in new prisoners, you’d growl at them, snapping your teeth. But you never attacked, only remained in your corner. Little by little, you inched closer to the door, then started attacking the uniformed people when they stepped in. 

That’s when the physical punishment started. They’d kick, hit, punch, and whip you when you lunged to attack. The first instances threw you off, but after a while, you learned the patterns, getting the upper hand, landing a punch or two before Cepheus would intervene. 

Cepheus was relentless, throwing you against the wall, choking you when you’d try to bite. You snarled, using your chains to whip at him, landing hits, and injuring him. As much as you tried, your weak state worked against you. With the small amount of adrenaline, you remained exhausted. Cepheus would then deliver his intense punishment against you.

It went on and on, Cepheus would come in and you’d attack him until your body could no longer take it and shut down on you. For once, you were glad your brain decided to call it quits for the period of time that Cepheus beat you up. The aftermath was a bitch, you curling up, alone in the cold room, wheezing. 

The old man would still visit, watching you for a while to make sure you were alive before exiting. His way of caring? No. He was an asshole. His family are a bunch of assholes. His fucking bandit camp was full of assholes. You quietly wept, pleading for your brother. 

But he was gone. 

“Is this the one you were talking about?”

You opened your eyes, trying to sit up. Cepheus was inside the room with another man who was donning a white suit, clean crisp. He was pale, his green hair combed back, his yellow eyes staring at you. Your gaze fell on his tie.

Maliwan.

“Yes, she’s the one who has lasted for months in here,” Cepheus stated, emotionless, “As for the other part I mentioned, she’d be an excellent asset.”

You snarled. What was Cepheus doing this time? Hadn’t he done enough to torture you? You crouched, growling, glaring at the old man.

“Down!” Cepheus barked out. You hissed at him. Cepheus inched forward, rolling up his sleeves but was stopped by the man.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that,” the man stated, approaching you. You let out a tiny hiss, cowering back to the corner. The man knelt, removing his black glove, reaching out. Flinching, you closed your eyes, waiting for impact. 

But nothing came.

You felt a gentle touch on your head. You opened your eyes, locking gaze with the man. He smiled, “You poor thing, this brute treating you this way…”

You leaned more forward, desperate. It had been forever since someone showed you kindness. A small hiccup left your body as you tried to contain yourself. The man helped you up, holding your hand.

“I’m taking her, Cepheus. I will still be needing your services,” the man replied, leading you out of the cold room. The rattling of the chains and shackles filled each step you took. You glanced at Cepheus, narrowing your eyes.

The old man looked back at you, his face void of any expression. He was paying attention more to the man.

“Let’s get you patched up, make sure you are good to go,” the man informed, rubbing your back. You nodded slowly, weak still.

Perhaps you didn’t have shitty luck this time around.

\-----0000-----

You had passed out for the entire part of the day, word reaching you that the Calypsos had departed for the raid via Mouthpiece announcing it. The hangover hit you bad, the splitting headache pounding at your senses. Weak, you hurried off to the bathroom where you became best buddies with the toilet. For once, no priests had come to bother you to drag you away for the departure of the twins. You were glad, your buddies the toilet and stomach wouldn’t have liked it. 

Jumping into the shower, you welcomed the cold splash of water on your face alleviating the headache a bit and help loosen your sore muscles. After finishing, you cleaned up, checking the cuts on your hands. Fortunately, majority of the them were healing up nicely. 

Feeling productive, you tidied up your room, your eye caught on a familiar jacket.

Troy’s.

“What the hell…?” you picked up the huge jacket, inspecting it. You didn’t recall seeing him on your way back to the hut. You rubbed your face, trying to remember. Nothing. He had it on when he took you to his private shop to fix his arm. 

“Everyone keeps losing jackets around here,” you muttered, folding Troy’s jacket and placing it on top of your dresser, “I just hope he has extras like Tyreen.”

Tyreen.

No word yet about the situation with your own jacket. You were expecting for her to show up, get angry, and probably punish you. Maybe she was waiting after the raid? One more thing to worry about. 

A knock at the main door snapped you from your thoughts. Cautious, you opened it slightly, then sneered. Jackal was standing there, nervous.

“Greetings…” he bowed, shaking a bit.

“You and I are going to have a little talk…” you growled out.

\----0000----

A soft knock alerted a bandit to the metal door, spooking him from his time reading a questionable magazine. Approaching the door, grunting, he slid open the peep hole slot, narrowing his eyes at the intruder. A psycho was jumping, holding a piece of paper in his hand.

“The hell, are you lost!?” the bandit shouted at the psycho.

The psycho carefully extended out the note, reading it, “H-Hi… D-Do you have t-time to hear about o-our Gods, the Calypsos?!”

The bandit’s eyes widen, fear present, “Holy shit-!”

The psycho shoved a grenade through the peep hole, “BOOM TIME!”

BANG! BANG!

The explosion thundered through the hallway, alarms going off. The metal door laid wasted on top of the bandit’s corpse, armed cultists rushing in, Basil and Donovan coming from behind, both of them brandishing shotguns.

“You have your orders, eliminate the small fry, leave the bigger ones to us!” Donovan ordered.

“Yes, Prophet Donovan!” the armed cultists shouted, going further into the hallway. 

“Fuck yeah, this is going to be intense, let’s go, Don!” Basil shouted, running down another hallway. Donovan cackled, following after him. 

Shots, explosions, screams filled the hallways. Donovan and Basil shot through rooms, meeting resistance with some bandits. The blaring red lights of the alarms painting the atmosphere red. Red. Red. 

“How’s it going on your end, Troy?!” Donovan said to the EchoNet. Basil and Donovan heard Troy roaring and laughing, screams from the bandits, “Its bloody fantastic, especially with my arm all tuned up!”

Troy, wearing a black version of his common jacket, stood inside a warehouse, maiming and stabbing the bandits that rushed in, his jaw split open to bite down on several of them. He grabbed several individuals, crushing their heads with his mechanical arm. He was getting a rush, catching the prey unsuspected.

“Come on, come on, is this the best you have!?” Troy shouted, picking up a bandit by the throat, “Worthless!” 

Several bruisers showed up with shotguns, running towards Troy and his group of armed cultists, engaging. Troy stabbed, sliced through them. Surveyors flew above everyone, recording the action. A lone red surveyor remained floating in the corner, beeping. It kept it’s focus on Troy. 

“Heh, so the fucker in charge is watching this, eh?” Troy snickered, grabbing a bandit and flinging it at the red surveyor. It dodged, immediately flying off through one of the warehouse windows. 

“Should we follow it, Father Troy?” one of the armed cultists asked. Troy shook his head, “No point, eliminate those assholes!”

“Yes, Father Troy!”

“Donovan, Basil, the rakk flew the coop!” Troy announced in the EchnoNet, “Tell me you found something good!”

“We found an underground area as per Cepheus’s notes and the blueprints, under their storage units,” Donovan informed, reception static, “Basil and I are going in.”

“Wait for backup, who knows what’s inside. Secure the perimeter,” Troy ordered, stabbing a bruiser. He received confirmation from his two generals, the line cutting off.

The armed cultists managed to suppress the bruisers, the warehouse littered with corpses and blood spatters everywhere. Troy kicked several bodies aside, walking towards the crates near the decommissioned Altas trucks. With his mechanical arm, he pried one open, tossing the lid aside.

Inside the crate were dozens of body bags, the plastic clear, giving Troy a glimpse of the contents. He stepped back, caught off guard. The bodies were shriveled up, some were missing limbs, bones, and their heads.

“What the fuck…?” Troy muttered, looking at the other crates, “Open the other crates!”

Several armed cultists pried the crates open, gagging at the smell of rotten flesh. The stench suffocated the air in the warehouse. He was used to carnage and bloody fights, but this was too much for the Calypso.

“Gah, what the hell…!” Troy covered his nose, coughing, “Everyone out!” All filed outside, catching their breaths.

“Why did they have bodies in there!?” one of the armed cultists questioned, gagging. Some of the surveyors remained inside, giving Troy live feed from the warehouse as he checked his EchoNet. 

“Donovan, Basil, are you seeing this?” Troy asked, coughing.

“Holy shit… What the fuck were those rat bandits doing with the bodies…?!” Basil shouted, surprised, “I mean, I know we go all out, but this is…”

“Troy… I don’t think we are alone in here…” Donovan said, shuffling noise head around, “I sent a surveyor underground… we lost feed…” Donovan sent over a still image to Troy.

“You got to be shitting me…” Troy whispered, staring at the image. A sharp set of teeth, a blurred face with a grinning smile were the last things captured by the surveyor. When Tyreen brought up the idea to storm the old Atlas stronghold, he imagined just barging in and spooking the bandits. Now, it seemed they were keeping something in from running out.

“I’m heading over,” Troy informed, turning to face the armed cultists, “Secure the area!”

“Yes, Father Troy!”

Troy pinged Donovan and Basil’s location, walking through the compound’s hallways. The alarms were still going off. As Troy near their location, he stopped in his tracks, staring ahead. On the other side of the hallway, the red surveyor stared back him, it’s light beeping. 

“How about you show yourself, you fucker?!” Troy yelled, pointing his bloodied blade at it, “Found your shit stash in the warehouse!”

The surveyor beeped, taking off down the hallway, opposite of Troy. The Calypso gave chase, noticing that the surveyor was heading the same way of his generals’ location. He arrived at a small storage unit, several armed cultists alongside Donovan and Basil outside. Weaving past them, the surveyor disappeared into the open hatch.

“What the-!” Basil turned to look at Troy, “That’s not one of ours!”

“No shit, let’s go!” Troy ordered, going first down the hatch, the others following. The CoV surveyors entered the area, providing light. The lone light of the red surveyor glowed further down. There was a drop in temperature, the area extremely cold. 

“Everyone on your guard…” Donovan ordered, steadying his shotgun. The armed cultists raised their weapons, ready. Troy walked forward, stopping a few feet from the red surveyor.

“Alright, show yourself,” Troy demanded, gesturing the surveyors to shine ahead. As ordered, the surveyors pointed at his direction. Troy could hear his generals and armed cultists scrambling, pointing their guns at the entity in front of him.

Before him, a large man was chained to the wall, eyes bloodshot, grinning. He was wearing a white shirt and pants, bloody spots stained the majority of it, it appeared his hair was shaved off. The man licked his lips, giving everyone a good view of the sharp, serrated teeth and long tongue. 

“So noisy outside… was that you?” the large man asked, swaying back and forth, unfazed. The red surveyor perched on the large man’s head, beeping. Troy was fixated on the large burn mark on the man’s forehead. 

The same upside-down triangular shape mark that you and Cepheus sported.

“Troy, he has..” Basil trailed off, breathing heavily, afraid. Troy nodded, quiet. They had found something thanks to Cepheus’ extensive notes about the place.

“What should we do Troy?” Donovan asked, eyeing the sharp teeth of the man. It was still dark for them to truly see what else the man was hiding. 

“We should-“ Troy was cut off.

“What is it, Master?” the large man said out loud, his head twitching erratically, “You wish to speak to this gentleman here?” The speech pattern was jarring to the man’s current appearance. 

Master?

“Oh, I see…” the man continued, bringing a fingertip to rest on his lips, “My Master wishes for the presence of the one called ‘God Queen’ in order to initiate a pleasant conversation. My Master knows she’s around.”

“How did you…” Troy growled, pointing his blade at him, shouting, “You are in no position to make demands! Who are you and why are you here?!”

The large man wailed, covering his ears, “Cease this! You are too loud!” He sobbed, falling to his knees, “Master, please, this gentleman here is displaying a lack of etiquette, I must punish him!”

The red surveyor beeped, delivering a small shock to the large man who calmed down. 

“All is well, my Master will wait. You want answers, don’t you?” the large man’s tone shifted, standing up erect. He was no longer moving around, only staring at Troy and the others.

Troy observed the man and the surveyor, noticing wires connecting both of them, revealing how the man was receiving instructions. 

“He’s had body modifications…” Troy commented, taking out his EchoNet device, “Tyreen?”

“I heard everything, I’m almost there,” Tyreen sounded on the other side, “Keep him talking.”

“Alright...” Troy put away his device, bringing his blade down, “The God Queen is coming, so you better have something good.”

The man giggled, “My Master is most delighted to hear.”

The hatch reopened again, the armed cultists backing up to help Tyreen down. She shuddered, hugging herself a bit. 

“Shit, its cold here…” she muttered, approaching Basil, Donovan, and Troy.

“Tell us about…” Donovan replied, trying to control his breathing, “Let’s make this quick.”

“The God Queen is here, whoever you are…” Troy hissed out, still keeping Tyreen behind him.

“Most excellent, Master, shall we proceed?” the large man said, ecstatic as he received another shock. 

“What the hell is going on…” Tyreen glanced around the room. All around were empty shackles, dry blood splatters. 

“My Master wishes to gain confirmation that you saw the photos from the EchoNet,” the man inquired, pupils dilated, his tone going more robotic, “Confirm.”

Tyreen and Troy glanced at each other, the latter responding, “We have. One with bodies and another with a woman laughing.”

You.

The large man took a deep breath, covering his face. The generals and the armed cultists brought up their guns, aiming. Keeling over, he started laughing, a mixture of sobs and pain. Troy pushed Tyreen back as the man thrashed around in his chains.

“Oh, I’ve waiting a long time for this moment,” the large man said. The Calypsos blinked, eyeing him cautiously. The man’s voice went deeper.

Someone was speaking through him.

“She has a cat-like grin, doesn’t she?” the man asked, looking at the Calypsos, “It’s adorable.”

Tyreen hissed, Siren tattoos glowing bright, “H-How..!?” 

“I’ve always loved her laughs, her smiles… However…” the man glared at them, “She doesn’t belong to you!” The man’s hands shook, the chains rattling, “You are to return her to me at once!”

“I told you that you are in no position to make demands!” Troy barked out, snarling. The large man wailed again, mumbling to himself and another voice talking. Another shock was delivered.

“You are to give us answers! What is going on in this place?!” Tyreen shouted, her Siren tattoos glowing intimidatingly. 

The large man giggled, ranting, “Cepheus was supposed to bring her back. Clearly, he failed. This is what happens when one relies on old people, time catches up to them. Their sins as well. Now, he’s dead.”

“That damn Cepheus again, that old fart has caused us more trouble as a dead man,” Donovan muttered, watching the large man cackle.

“I’m sure she was sad killing her old mentor. Very unfortunate,” the large man continued.

Sad? The Calypsos and everyone involved had seen you kill him with no remorse. You practically lost it when fighting him. 

“What you have is child’s play,” the large man taunted, his head twitching more, “Those Let’s Flays and livescreams of the raids, crude and brute, a pathetic excuse for attention.” 

/This is mere child’s play./

Cepheus had taunted the Calypsos with that phrase. Tyreen growled.

“You fucking asshole…” Tyreen hissed out, Troy stopped her from approaching the man, “I should say the same to you! Pathetic excuse for attention using the EchoNet forums… hiding behind a screen and now hiding behind this lump of meatbag! You coward!”

The large man wailed, “Master, she’s raising her voice…!” His tone shifted again, “Are you calling me a coward?”

“If you’ve seen those livescreams, you know what we are capable of… Of what I AM CAPABLE OF,” Tyreen shouted.

“Hahaha, alright, I’ll indulge you. I will show you how out of league you are, Calypsos…” the large man said, popping his neck. In a quick movement, he bulked up in size, lunging at the Calypsos.

Troy swung his blade, blocking a punch from the man who ripped off the wall shackles. The armed cultists began shooting, Donovan and Basil unloading their shotguns at the man’s face. Tyreen reached out, her Siren powers activating. The man hissed out in pain, his energy being drawn out.

“This ends now you fucker!” Tyreen shouted, clenching her fist. 

“HAHAHAHA, YOU ARE A SIREN?! TRULY WONDERFUL!” the man slurred out, his skin going pale, “Master, this is too easy for me!” 

“TY!” Troy shouted, lunging and grabbing Tyreen out the way from an explosive attack from the large man’s hand body mod. Cracking noises and hissing alerted the group of the ceiling and walls crumbling down.

“Shit, shit! Everyone, regroup with our Twin Gods!” Donovan shouted, heading towards the Calypsos. Tyreen remained in shock, holding on to Troy who was bleeding profusely from his neck and head.

“T-Troy…! No!” Tyreen pleaded, checking his injuries, “N-No, no! Stay with me!” Some of the armed cultists ran towards them. The large man had grown in size, his body twitching.

“Get a taste of what’s coming to you for keeping what belongs to my Master!” the man’s voice devolved deeper and deeper, snarling, eyes bulging, “Your powers don’t work on this body, God Queen!”

“Fuck, you lot get the Twin Gods out of here, we’ll keep this bastard back!” Basil ordered, shooting, the armed cultists providing backup.

Donovan gasped, seeing Troy’s back ripped apart, Tyreen trying to heal him. He took out an adrenaline shot, plunging it on Troy’s side. The tall Calypso hissed out in pain, screaming. 

“Damnit, damnit! We got to move!” Donovan shook Tyreen who was frozen, “Don’t go into shock, Tyreen, we have to get out!”

Tyreen nodded, bloody hands shaking, her eyes glued to Troy’s massive injuries. An armed cultist grabbed Tyreen, pulling her up as Donovan and another armed cultist picked up Troy. The group immediately retreated, the collapsed wall providing a makeshift ramp out in the open.

“CALYPSOS!” the mutated man shouted, “YOU ARE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!”

“Over here you asshole!” Basil shot a rocket, the missile striking at the man’s face. This caught the mutated man’s attention, going after Basil.

“Fuck, we need to call for back-up, this is bad!” Donovan said, his clothes soaking up Troy’s blood. Tyreen held on to Troy’s arm, feeding him energy.

Her powers did not work on the mutated man, a first that she’s seen. That had been her primary source of attack, instilling fear on others.

“CALYPSOS!” the mutated man’s roar taunted them from behind.

Tyreen was afraid.

\------000000------

Religion was never a thing for you, believing that any entity out there who claimed to be one was simply a false god. This sentiment extended to the Calypsos, it disgusted you how everyone was enamored with them. No one was immortal, even the gods in myths met cruel ends due to their hubris. Betting money on it, so will the Calypsos if they decided to continue on their current path.

Or seek answers from your past. At least one outcome would be kinder, in your opinion.

Walking into the main cathedral, you gazed at the stained-glass windows depicting the Calypsos. For all the trouble and mayhem in the waste, they played the god part very well, having the energy to command for such elaborate representations of themselves to the cultists. As an artist of the mechanic type, you admired the craftmanship. 

Observing the rest of the cathedral, a lone psycho was by the altar, lighting up candles and praying, giggling. At least the psychos were more coherent within in the CoV. You made your way to the side of the large hall, entering a small confessional tucked away. Leaning against the soft, velvet seat, you rested your head slightly by the screen window dividing the other stall of the confessional. Clearing your throat, you alerted the other person on the opposite side.

“I’m here to confess my sins,” you whispered. The small screen opened, the film blocking the view of the other person.

“Go ahead,” a woman’s voice was heard. A very familiar one.

“I can’t stop thinking of this particular man, every waking moment, I crave for his attention,” you started, “I lust for him….”

You heard the woman take a deep breath.

“I want to feel his touch, I want him to make me feel alive…” you let out a tiny whimper, “How can I satiate this? How can I be absolved for wanting his flesh, this deep carnal desire?”

“Drop dead.”

You backed away, dodging a dagger plunged through the wood panel. Snickering, you grabbed it, nicking your palm, a little of blood smeared on it. The dagger was pulled back.

“Helen, Helen, dear Helen…” you whispered, licking your lips, “Helen of Troy… has a nice ring to it, right?”

“….He told you, Jackal,” Helen growled out.

“It was bound to happen, you know,” you informed, peeking through the film, “Sooner or later I was going to find out who was sending those meat bags to rough me up. Thanks for that, really enjoyed the workout.”

Helen hissed, “Don’t get cocky…”

“No, you. I’m tired of this stupid little game you got going on. I told you I’m not interested in Troy,” you spat out, tense, “I’m not here to fight you.”

Helen remembered Donovan’s words about Troy. It was irrelevant her and your opinion in the matter. It was a harsh truth, but Troy’s attention was shifting to you.

“It doesn’t matter,” Helen whispered, “It doesn’t fucking matter… as long as you are alive… he’ll go to you…”

“Well then, pray tell what is another way to get his attention off from me?” you inquired, “Everyone seems to be keen in doing their own shit while I’m in the crossfire.”

“There isn’t any,” Helen sounded defeated.

“Well then, I guess I should try killing Troy, get that over with,” you commented, jokingly.

“You fucking bitch…!”

“I’m joking, geez, calm down,” you rolled your eyes as you watched the dagger plunge through again, close to your face, “I’m surprised you and Tyreen don’t get along, you two have hair trigger anger attacks….”

“….”

“Jackal told me as well, a man will spill anything under duress,” you huffed, “You already know my stance on this. I expect no more attacks from you.” You were about to step out when she uttered something, your blood boiling.

“Watch your back with Donovan, he sent other groups to finish you off.”

\-----0000-----

You reentered the warehouse, immediately dodging a wrench. Perseus shot you a look of disappointment, sighing. You snickered, approaching his workbench. The mechanic was the only one in the place, no service work allowed during a raid in case of an emergency or backup mechanics were needed on the field, which was extremely rare from what you’ve been told. As such, Perseus always liked to mingle around, working on personal projects. Great minds think alike, you thought. 

“You don’t know the meaning of resting, right?” Perseus raised his eyebrow, putting away some items in a drawer, “The others are still nursing their hangovers, pft.”

“I get antsy if I’m not doing something, plus, I need to get ready if I’m doing another arena fight,” you removed your wrist gadget, setting it on the workbench, “I got something I want to use.”

Perseus got excited, “Is it the secret, secret box? Will I finally be graced by the presence of those contents?” You laughed, poking him on the forehead. He stuck his tongue out at you. 

“Maybe, if you behave, I’ll even let you help me tune it up!” You teased, smiling when Perseus let out a tiny squeal. The mechanic went to grab some tools from his locker, setting them out, “I’m ready when you are…!”

“Hold on, I haven’t even said I was going to let you help,” you went to your locker, grabbing a small black chest you crafted for smaller projects, suspicious of others trying to steal ideas. 

“B-But I’m your friend…” Perseus offered, mock crying, “I thought we had something magical…” You both stared at each other before bursting out in laughter. You smacked the workbench, wiping a tear from your face, “Now I’m the one crying!” 

“As long as its not the sad kind, we’ll be okay!” He grinned, flashing you a thumbs up. Opening the box, you carefully set out a pair of silver brass knuckles onto the workbench, placing some wires and small gears on the side.

“Oh.. This is your new… toy?” Perseus teased, “Is it similar to that ring cuff you had?” The same one that got busted in the fight against Cepheus. 

“…Something similar, I was using that ring cuff as a prototype, trying to mimic that on brass knuckles, but the gears keep busting,” you opened one of the brass knuckles, showing Perseus the bent gears.

“May I?” the mechanic inquired. You pushed the brass knuckles over to him, grinning, “Go ahead.”

“Heheh,” Perseus grabbed some tweezers, a soldering iron, and thin screwdriver, “I think I may have your solution…” He quickly got to work, the smell of the soldering iron wafting through the warehouse. Observing the mechanic, you were amazed at how concentrated he looked.

“You need to wind up the springs, make sure the little lever stays stuck on the latch of the spring mechanism to prevent it from rewinding more and busting into the gears,” Perseus pointed out, showing you. Leaning forward, you nodded, impressed. 

“Hmm…”

“What? Oh…” you and Perseus’s faces were close. Too close.

You pulled back, embarrassed, “I-I… Sorry about that…”

“It’s fine. It’s not every day I have a pretty girl nearby,” Perseus winked at you, laughing. You snorted, “You think I’m pretty? Even though most of the time I’m covered in blood or grease oil?”

“I think it brings out the color of your eyes, either way,” Perseus ruffled your hair, teasing. You grinned, “Oh, dear, tell me more…” You both laughed. At least he wasn’t calling you a bloody killer like the Calypsos. 

“You two! Mechanics! Over here double time!” an armed cultist hollered, causing you to jump, “There’s an emergency! Quickly, let’s go!”

“What-“ Perseus grabbed your arm, dragging you towards the armed cultist. You managed to put your brass knuckles away in the box.

“Shit, shit, we gotta go, come on!” Perseus and you ran after the armed cultist, “Fuck, this isn’t good!”

“Did something go wrong?!” you asked the armed cultist who ushered you and Persesus into an armored bandit technical. Two other bandit technicals had taken off.

“We don’t know…! Prophet Donovan radioed in for backup!” the armed cultist pressed on the gas, tires screeching, “Ordered for mechanics to brought in for an emergency procedure!”

Emergency procedure? Perseus went to the back part of the vehicle, rummaging through the drawers for tools. The other occupant in the vehicle was a medic who was going through supply bags.

“Shit…” you held on to the side of the vehicle, bracing on the impacts on the bumpy, dusty terrain of the wastes. You went cold when you saw the Atlas stronghold in the distance.

“O-Oh no…No.. no…” you started mumbling, stumbling backwards, “No… No… they went there…!”

“Hey, keep it together, I know this is your first emergency call, we’re gonna get through this!” Perseus yelled from the back, but froze when he saw your expression, “Andromeda…?”

You had fear written on your face, pale, hands twitching, “I can’t go back… I can’t go back…”

“Snap her out of it! We’re almost there!” the armed cultist shouted. Gunshots and explosions sounded off, your brain going numb. Perseus rushed over, grabbing your head, “Look at me, keep your eyes on me. You’re gonna be okay, take deep breaths!”

You gulped, tears stinging your eyes, trying to breath. Your chest was on fire, your lungs pleading for air, your body refusing. Memories, deep dark memories were ready to burst. You wanted to scream, yell, run and hide. The Atlas red taunted you. 

“Andromeda, eyes on me!” Perseus caressed your check, “Breath in, breath out…!” You yelped when the vehicle hit a bump, causing you to stumble into Perseus. Instinctively, you clung to him, hands shaking.

“Oof, not too tight! Can’t breath, wait, you are the one that needs to breath…!” Perseus grimaced, adjusting himself. Your face was on his chest, taking a deep breath. The scent from Perseus reminded you of the warehouse, the dusty, greasy tools, the smell of burnt metal shavings, the strong smell of chemicals…. 

It reminded you of your brother.

“Hepha…” you whispered, loosening your grip on Perseus.

“What was that?” Perseus looked down at you, concerned, “Are you okay?”

Before you could respond, the vehicle abruptly stopped, the back doors opening. Two armed cultist pushed forward, holding the doors open as Basil and Tyreen were dragging Troy into the vehicle. The tall Calypso was severally injured, part of his neck and shoulder bone exposed, the connectors on the back of his head ripped off, the metal plates on the side of his body were bent in, crushed.

“H-Holy--!” Perseus stared in horror, your eyes wide at the sight of Troy.

“Damnit! That fucking monster did this to Troy!” Basil wailed, smacking the side of the vehicle, “Step on the damn pedal! We need to get out of here! You mechanics, medic, patch him up!”

“Y-Yes sir!” Persues replied, getting to work immediately. You eyed the extensive damage, unsure if you all had the necessary equipment and material in hand. 

Tyreen was holding Troy’s head, her Siren tattoos glowing, herself covered in blood. She didn’t notice you were in the vehicle until you started to inspect Troy’s wounds.

“W-Who brought her!? Why is she here?!” Tyreen shouted, growling, “Damnit, this is your fucking fault!!”

“My fault?! You couldn’t keep your fucking nose out of my business!” you shouted back, snarling. Everyone else watched in fear as you kept talking back at Tyreen.

“If only you answered our fucking questions, none of this would be happening!” Tyreen hissed out.

“Get after her later! We need to get Troy stable!” Basil interjected, feeling a common trend of him being the sane one. 

Tyreen hissed, you ignored her as you were given tools and the medic began administering fluids to Troy. Perseus and you checked the broken spine connector, taking out chunks of broken metal parts. Troy would let out small whimpers, driving Tyreen’s anxiety up.

“Please Troy, hang in there!” Tyreen sobbed, yelling threats at you, Perseus, and the medic. 

SLAP!

Tyreen stared at you, a bloody handprint on her cheek where you slapped her. Everyone gasped.

“You better keep your fucking mouth shut, can’t concentrate with you shouting every second!” you snapped, a hand on Troy’s opened back, “Concentrate on feeding whatever fucking shit you have to him...”

Tyreen gulped, nodding as she looked down at Troy, a bit scared. Her priority was keeping Troy alive. Your priority was making sure he made it out alive. No one made a comment about the slap, simply aiding you in reconstructing Troy’s spine.

“Perseus, gives me a .55mm wire, medic, I need more clean gauze, seep up the spinal fluid,” you ordered. Perseus gave you the wire, resuming his work on creating a makeshift connector and spinal wire, the medic injecting more morephine into Troy, using a small suction to clear out the spinal fluid. 

Tyreen and Basil watched you meticulously work, your eyes not wandering as you fed the wire through several small connectors in Troy’s spine, carefully closing the seams of the body mesh wire serving as a conductor and cushion for the spine connector. Your fingers were all over Troy’s back, fixing up the broken, smashed pieces. Perseus handed you the complete connector, the medic administering fluids through an IV, keeping tabs on the monitor on the side of the vehicle. 

/ You should have seen her work… I mean, I get into my zone while working in my shop, you know? She just… the way she uses the tools… not as an extension of her but as PART of her…/

The white-haired Calypso stared at you, Troy’s words echoing in her mind. Your eyes would twitch a bit, glancing around the work before you, your fingers expertly handling the small, delicate tools, precise cuts, incisions, everything calculated. She was starting to see why her brother was smitten by you. 

And she herself as well.

“You got any morphine left?” you asked the medic, not looking away.

“No, we used the last vial, are you ready to reconnect?” the medic asked, Perseus nervous.

“He’s gonna jolt when we do,” Perseus glanced at Tyreen, “We’re gonna have to hold him down.”

“W-What?” Tyreen’s voice was strained.

“Keep him steady, don’t pull, only hold him down, is everyone ready?” you asked, finishing up the closing the spine connector. 

“Yeah!”

“Here goes…!” You reconnected the wires, Troy screaming out in pain, thrashing. Everyone held him down, Basil bearing the brunt of Troy’s mechanical arm. Tyreen wept, holding her brother’s head, feeding him energy, “Oh Troy… please hang on…”

“Ty…” Troy’s voice was small, exhausted, “….Ty…”

“I’m here little brother, I’m here,” Tyreen knelt down as much as she could, hugging him gently. Troy calmed down, no longer fighting. 

“We need to remove the metal plates, they are tearing into his flesh and any sudden movements could push them to puncture his organs…” you tugged at the plates, Troy yelping. 

“Be gentle!” Tyreen growled out.

“I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut!” you yelled back.

“Ty… let her work…” Troy was panting a bit, “She knows… what she’s… doing…” He lowered his head, passing out. Tyreen whimpered, still holding him. If he trusted you, then she would.

“What do you need, mechanic?” Basil asked, rummaging through the drawers, Perseus setting up a small work area. 

“We don’t have the necessary metal plates, but check for more body mesh sheets, that will keep him intact till we get to the hub. Medic, you need to move over here and clean as much as you can of the shrapnel,” you ordered, moving aside to let the medic through. Basil threw some sheets at Perseus and you. 

“I’ll get the shoulder, you get the sides,” Perseus began working on shaping the mesh, you nodding. The ride was proving smooth for now, giving Troy a much-needed break. 

“B-Basil, anyone!” Donovan shouted from the EchoNet, “The fucker escaped! He’s heading your way!”

Tyreen and Basil looked at each other in horror.

“N-No!” Tyreen shouted, looking out through the windows of the vehicle.

“What the fuck is that?!” Perseus yelled, holding the body mesh in his hands. You froze, hands twitching.

The large man had furthered mutated, galloping across the land in all fours, gaining ground on your vehicle. From behind, several other bandit technicals were in pursuit, shooting at him.

“CALYPSOS! YOU ARE NOT RUNNING AWAY FROM ME!” the man’s disembodied voice struck a chord in you.

/Kill them all./

You grabbed your head, wincing.

/Kill them all./

The headache was reemerging, a sharp pain coursing through your body.

/Kill them all until you see red./

You eyed some chains on the back part of the vehicle, going for them. 

“H-Hey! What are you doing?!” Persesus asked, Tyreen and Basil startled.

“Patch up the sides, you know what to do,” you replied, voice distant. You kicked open the back doors, jumping off.

“D-Doll, no!” Tyreen shouted, Basil holding her back.

“She’s fucking insane!” Basil immediately shut down the doors, “Fuck, Mouthpiece, Moksha, eyes on the mechanic that rolled out! Donovan, keep that fucking monster away!”

“Is that the fucking plaything that rolled out!?” Donovan yelled through the EchoNet.

“Surveyors will pull a feed through!” Moksha alerted the group.

\----000000----

You immediately hit the ground, rolling in the dirt as the large mutated man cackled, skidding to a stop. The other bandit technicals stopped, quickly surrounding you and the man.

“What is this?! Time to meet your maker, Master says so!” he shouted, snarling. The red surveyor was nested on the man’s head, beeping. 

You quickly got up, spitting out blood from the impact on your face, swinging the chain on your side. The large man’s eyes went wide.

“I-It’s you! Y-You are here! You are alive!” the large man’s voice held excitement, “O-Oh… I must be fortunate! I must take you back! I must take you back!” He reached out to grab you. Dodging quickly, you whipped the chain to land a hit on the man’s face. He yelped, holding his face.

“N-No! No! NO! This isn’t how things are to be! You know that! You are not to fight back!” He hollered, snarling.

“You lack etiquette…” you hissed out, swinging your chain again, “I must punish you…”

“N-No! I apologize!” the mutated man fell to his knees, pleading, “Oh, Master, I have failed you!”

“What is going on with that thing…?!” Donovan kept the others away, observing the fight. Your demeanor had changed, you were standing tall, a gleeful expression on your face. Several CoV surveyors arrived at the area, flocking near Donovan. 

“You failed to bow, I shall pass judgment,” you stated, voice laced with excitement, “But I will allow you the honor to fight for your life. Come on.”

“I-I shall!” the man sobbed out.

He wailed in pain, shrieking, his back further ripping apart, exposing the inner metal frame of his spine with various vials attached to it. His clawed at his own face, chunks of flesh falling off. Hunched over, his appearance became more animalistic, feral.

Unhinged.

You laughed, clapping, the chains rattling, “Yes! Just like that! Go all out on me! I haven’t had a challenge since I killed Cepheus!” Your eyes held a glint of enthusiasm, “LETS GO! LETS GO! BRING IT ON!”

The mutated man roared, lunging forward. You cackled, jumping on his arm and landing a punch on his face, digging your hands into the soft flesh. Avoiding a punch from him, you ripped down flesh, splashing blood on yourself. With the chains, you viciously whipped the mutated man, striking at the spine. He stumbled forward, holding his face.

You rolled towards the ground, dodging more kicks and punches, laughing as you took out your dagger to plunge it on his hand when the mutated man tried to grab you. With an upwards slice, his fingers came off clean.

“Show mercy! Show mercy!” the mutated man slurred out, holding up his fingerless hand, “Please, show mercy!”

/ I’m the last person to ask for mercy… / 

“I’M THE LAST PERSON TO ASK FOR MERCY!” you screeched out, lunging at the man, aiming for his leg with the dagger, “I’M NOT GOING BACK! NOT GOING BACK!” You screamed, slicing through the thick skin, exposing the bone. Using the chains, you wrapped it around the wound, pulling hard. The mutated man hollered out in pain, falling to the ground as you tugged hard.

With a strong pull, you ripped off his leg clean off, laughing as the body part landed ways off from you, but near the bandit technicals. 

“MERCY!” 

“NEVER!” you shouted, jumping on the man’s back, coiling the chains around his neck, choking him. No one showed you mercy. Why should they ask for something that was never given to you? 

You eyed the body mod on his spine, your mind going crazy. Falling into a fit of giggles, you stabbed into the flesh, digging a hand into the metal frame and surrounding body parts. Biting your lip, you remembered tinkering with Troy’s back, feeling his own flesh under your fingertips as you raced against time to save his life. 

So soft.

So squishy.

So delicate.

So red.

A wrong move and he died. 

His life in your hands.

Not on Tyreen’s or Helen’s.

But yours. A god’s life in your tainted hands. 

“Must kill… Dominate… Kill them all..” you muttered, pulling at the metal frame, the loud popping noise of the spine coming clean off from the man reached everyone’s ears. He thrashed, crying out in pain as you threw the body mod aside. 

Jumping off his back, you lifted the large man, laughing, plunging the dagger into his abdomen. He cried out in pain, blood gushing from his chest and stomach onto you, guts pouring out.

“A bloody sacrifice! A bloody sacrifice!” he shouted, twitching, “The Queen has passed judgment! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” He let out a loud shriek, eyes popping out, his head exploding. You plunged your dagger deeper, hearing the crunching, tearing of flesh. Shaking the body more, you flung it to the side, completely bathed in red. Red. Red.

Red. Red. Red.

The red surveyor approached you, beeping. You tilted your head, eyeing it. A small blue heart appeared above it.

.: Come home, please. :. You patted the surveyor’s head before punching it on the ground, laughing. Injured, the robot beeped sadly, spazzing on the ground. You stepped on and crushed it under your boot.

“I love you,” a voice message rang out. 

Your voice. 

A flash of an upside-down blue triangle reflected on the surveyor’s screen before dying out.

You stared at the remains of the red surveyor, shrugging. Remembering you had company, you turned to look at the armed cultists. Hissing, you laughed as they looked on in fear, staying near the bandit technicals.

You then stared at Donovan, your expression filled with bloodlust.

“Send more meat bags and your head will be the one to roll,” you smiled, licking your lips. You then cackled.

Donovan narrowed his eyes.

You did have a cat-like grin.

\-----00000-----

Tyreen glanced at Helen sitting on the medical bed, Troy’s head resting on the woman’s lap. She was gently caressing his cheek, Troy holding the priestess’s hand. You had bought them time to reach the hub unhindered, the medics and Perseus finishing and patching up the remaining parts of Troy’s metal plates. The information for the raid was kept hushed, but was later reported as successful, despite the small causalities and Troy’s injury. 

Donovan brought back the remaining survivors, you included. You never spoke a word to anyone, only sitting on the hallway of the main infirmary, completely covered in blood. After Perseus had finished with his work, he was the only one to approach you, sitting in front of you. Tyreen had seen the mechanic before on the feeds of the warehouse, chatting and joking around with you. Unlike with her and Troy, you were friendlier, outgoing with this other mechanic. Jealousy bubbled up in the God Queen.

“Ty…” Troy whispered, glancing at Tyreen, “Where is she..?” Helen’s caressing stopped, her fingertips twitching. 

“Who…? My plaything?” Tyreen asked, exhaustion present in her voice.

“Yeah…” Troy closed his eyes, whimpering a bit. Helen looked away, sighing. 

“She’s outside, down the hallway… Didn’t want to come in…” Tyreen said, shooting a small glare at the door, “She’s talking to the other mechanic that help her patch you up.”

“I see…” Troy said, taking a deep breath. He recalled hearing Perseus rant on about your safety, about how he was worried if you’d make it back alive. He wanted to shut the idiot mechanic up, but when he had heard you jumped off the vehicle, Troy got nervous, believing you had taken the opportunity to run away. 

When he was brought in to the infirmary, Basil had the feed from the fight going. Troy and the others watched as you brought down the mutated man with ease with no help from Donovan and the others. You were more feral than before, relishing and soaking in the fear that the mutated man exhibited who begged for mercy. The more he begged, the more ferocious were your attacks. A complete opposite performance than with Cepheus.

/I’M NOT GOING BACK!/

You were adamant about it.

/I love you./

That was what the red surveyor said before dying, crushed under your boot. Troy swore that was your voice, sounding more alive than your current self. Had you said those words to someone? Was it the same person that had taken a picture of you laughing? Whoever this way, they had been intimate with you. Jealousy stirred in Father Troy. 

“Rest…” Helen pleaded, snapping Troy out of his thoughts, “I’ll be here with you…”

“Thank you,” Troy whispered, closing again his eyes, squeezing her hand. Helen watched Tyreen leave the room, not sparing the priestess a glance. 

\----00000-----

“Father Troy is fine now, thanks to you,” Perseus said, resting his hands on his knees, “You… You are a damn lunatic…” The last words weren’t in a fearful tone. He was scolding you.

You looked down, rubbing your injured arm.

“Jumping out of the damn vehicle, you could have gotten yourself killed!” Perseus waved a finger at you, upset, “Damnit, you need to stop being reckless!”

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled out, shrinking.

Perseus sighed, rubbing his face, “You better be. Promise me you won’t be doing anything like that again, please?”

“I won’t be able to keep it, and you know it…” you said, hugging yourself, “I didn’t want you to see that side of me…”

“What side?” Perseus asked, “The one that slapped the God Queen or the one that brought down that freaky thing?”

“Both…” you let out a tiny chuckle, “You should… You should stay away from me….”

The mechanic stared at you, baffled, “…Why?”

“Bad things happen to those around me,” you stated, looking at him. You were covered head to toe with blood, not bothering to change.

“I’m your friend,” Perseus insisted, “Friends stick with each other….”

“I never asked to be your friend…” 

“I know what you are trying to do, but its not going to work,” Perseus narrowed his eyes, standing up, “Just… Just stay alive…”

You snorted, shaking your head, “I wish I had your enthusiasm, sadly, its been dead a long time ago…” The mechanic sighed, then stood up straight at the sight of Tyreen approaching the two of you.

“M-My God Queen…” Perseus bowed, “I was heading out, my work is complete…”

Tyreen nodded, waving him off, “Thank you for your work, mechanic. You are dismissed.” Perseus nodded, bowing again before leaving quickly. You got up, dusting yourself off. 

You had been waiting for Perseus to be done. 

The little jealousy monster stung Tyreen again. She breathed in and out, trying to keep calm. 

“Thank you for saving Troy’s life…” Tyreen said, clasping her hands together, “…How can I ever repay you…?”

“Let me go. Let me leave this place,” you replied, voice distant. 

Tyreen shook her head, approaching you slowly, “That’s not possible. You are….”

/My plaything./

“You are part of the Children of the Vault, you have the mark.”

/You belong to me, and only to me./

You glared at her. Even after witnessing the carnage, almost losing her brother, and picking a fight with the wrong person, she still held on to you?

Tyreen grabbed your arm, not forcefully. You didn’t pull back this time around. She leaned to kiss you, looking at your eyes. You didn’t respond, your gaze empty.

“Why.. why do you keep looking at me like that?!” Tyreen yelled, “Why do I get the hissing, the glares, the snarls!? WHY?!” She slapped you, tears falling down her cheeks, “Why do you keep denying me?!”

You merely stared at her.

“Stop looking at me that way!” She shouted, clenching her fists, “Answer my fucking questions!”

“I hate you, you’re a monster,” you hissed out, disgust oozing with every word uttered, your bloody appearance not helping, “A Siren monster…”

Tyreen felt her heart squeeze. 

\------000000-----

“You are back early, Professor Juno.”

“That’s not my name, that’s my father’s,” the black-haired man replied, eye twitching as he saw Steele approach him, “What do you want?”

“No need to be rude, I came to see my Siren sister,” Steele stood next to him, looking into the observation room.

Tyreen was provided with several plants, the medical staff tallying up notes as she took the energy from some of them and transferred them over to another plant, watching them grow and sprout flowers and fruits. The moment this was discovered, the Atlas jarheads were delighted, finally happy that progress was being made. Troy remained by her side, observing. Their mother, Leto, looked on, uneasy.

“Supreme Commander Gaia would be proud to see this,” Steele commented, standing erect, “Knowing that Atlas was able to procure another Siren to continue her vision for the Crimson Lance and the Atlas Corporation.”

The man growled at the mention of the commander. 

“I will do my best to emulate her image, she was a role model for all of us,” Steele continued, proud, “Wouldn’t you agree, Hephaestus?”

“She’s dead,” Hephaestus stated.

“Pardon?” Steele turned to look at him.

“If you wish to follow her footsteps, you’re going to end up like her, dead,” Hephaestus spat out, taking out a cigarette, lighting it up, “She was a nasty piece of work, that woman.” Hephaestus stared at Tyreen playing with the orbs of energy she created. The white-haired Calypso yelped when they popped, frightening her and Troy as the twins ran towards their mother for safety.

“That’s an odd way to speak about your mother,” Steele furrowed her eyebrows, “There must be something you found inspiring in her.”

Hephaestus took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing out smoke, “Nothing inspiring about a Siren monster.”

A message pinged on his wrist device, Hephaestus glanced down.

The upside-down blue triangle flashed.

.:We have another job for you.:.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope it wasn’t too crazy for people to read. Rewrote this chapter a lot of times. @_@
> 
> The chapter concentrated more on the twins and worldbuilding than on the reader. The mixture of Atlas and the Calypso twins was inspired by cruddyborderlandstheories from tumblr, of course, adding my own twist to it. I see the twins as an inspiration from Apollo (red) and Artemis (blue) which is why I named their mother Leto. 
> 
> This is probably going to get destroyed when new info is released on E3, which is why I was rushing to post it before the weekend xD
> 
> -Comments and kudos feed this tiny gremlin :D


	4. Family Matters: The Things We Do For Love (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things escalate between the Twin Gods. Someone takes matters into their own hands. The mysterious ‘Master’ lurks behind the screen, taunting the Calypsos. The body count rises again. Tyreen bestows her good graces on you.
> 
> Such is life in Promethea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Character death, extreme physical punishment/torture, blood, mentions of gore, mentions of cannibalism, child abuse
> 
> TW: Emotional manipulation
> 
> As always, not beta-read, only judged heavily by my cat.

\----00000----

You have (1) message in your inbox.

Open? (Yes/No)

(Yes)

[A photo of Troy and Tyreen’s face of horror is displayed, a bright flash lighting up the dark room. An overexposed upside-down blue triangle is wedged between the twins]

! INCOMING MESSAGE !

Unknown User: Hello God Queen (crown emoji) :3c

Unknown User: I hope you enjoyed my little surprise in the underground freezer. :v

Unknown User: I sleep to Troy’s screams, powerful lungs he has, you know?

Unknown User: Also, I apologize for being too rough on you. First time? I’m usually gentle.

Unknown User: You can ask her. :3 I’m very gentle with first timers.

Unknown User: Let this serve as a warning. uvu Don’t call me a coward.

Unknown User: You ran away, tail between your legs. You are the coward. :3c

Unknown User: However, I must thank you for letting me see my Queen in action again. uwu She showed proper etiquette and punished the Jester for failing to bow at her presence. 

Unknown: This means she still remembers. Years of being in the wastes haven’t eroded her manners. How I long for her return to my arms.

Unknown User: [USER SENT IMAGE] 

[Image is a video still from the fight, you are covered in blood, laughing, arms up in the air. Donovan and the others are visible in the background.]

Unknown User: She doesn’t belong to you. : ) You can’t tame her. (heart emoji)

YOU CAN NO LONGER SEND MESSAGES TO THIS USER

Unknown User: :D I’ll bother you later, God Queen. (dagger emoji)

\---00000-----

Hands expertly kneaded into your shoulders and back, relieving the knots. You melted under the touch, sighing contently, your nude body enjoying the attention. The gentle touch of fingertips teased your lower back, eliciting a giggle out of you. Attempting to move, the hands held you down.

“I’m not done yet,” Troy whispered, laying butterfly kisses on your shoulder up to your neck. He received a low ‘hm’ in response as you settled down, allowing him to continue working. 

The small whimpers and sighs coming from you got Troy excited as he caressed your sides. You looked back at him, gesturing for him to lean forward. He complied, meeting your lips in a chaste kiss. 

“Wake up, Troy,” you murmured, grinning. Your cat-like grin. The same one that always plagued his mind.

Troy blinked, “What?”

“Wake up, Troy…” your voice went deeper, “He’s done…”

\----000000-----

Groaning, Troy woke up, covering his face to adjust his eyes from the harsh lights in the room. Donovan was staring at him from out in the hallway, hand on the light switch, somewhat amused. The tall Calypso sighed, sitting up.

“Did I interrupt a pleasant dream?” Donovan goaded, receiving a glare from Troy, “You were whimpering, pft.”

“If you must know, yes,” Troy yawned, “A fucking good one.” He leaned slightly against the couch he had passed out on, groggy. Dreams with you have been reoccurring, teasing him with the impossible. The only times he was ever physically close to you were after the arena fights and under the presence of Tyreen. 

“Pip finished the autopsy on that freak from the Atlas stronghold, let’s go before Tyreen gets angrier,” Donovan approached Troy, helping him up from the couch, “She sent me over since you didn’t show up, thought you were with Helen, heh.”

Troy growled, stretching, “One thing at a time, Donovan, one thing at a time…” He followed the general out. The last raid took a toll on everyone, Tyreen suffering most. She was unable to cope with her Siren powers not working on the mutated man. This had her on edge, snappy.

When Troy came to from the operation, he found out that you had resumed calling Tyreen a ‘Siren monster.’ The phrase itself had bothered Tyreen during the first few weeks you were with the Children of the Vault but she never let it show, believing that eventually you’d mellow out and behave. You stopped calling her that, only resorting to snide remarks. 

/Damn that Cepheus, that old man has caused more trouble as a dead man./

Troy agreed with Donovan’s statement. This entire mess started with the old Terror of the Waste bandit. His presence got you agitated, the mysterious triangle mark, the Atlas stronghold with the bodies in crates, the chained-up man in the underground chamber, and the so called ‘Master’ that demanded you be returned to them. After these events, your demeanor changed dramatically. Aside from calling Tyreen a ‘Siren monster,’ you had gotten more brutal with your assailants. The armed cultists had to clean up body parts strewn around the hub, sometimes not finding all the cultists’ complete body parts. 

As much as Troy loved bloodshed, this change was becoming worrisome for him. You were agitated, irritated and downright ready to fight as opposed to your calm self the twins had grown accustomed to outside the arena. 

“Let me tell you, Troy, this freak had some weird shit done to him,” Donovan snapped Troy out his thoughts, “At this point I think his head was the only thing human and of course, it exploded.” Both of them entered an examination room, the other generals and Tyreen present. In the middle was a large metal table, the body of the headless mutated man laid there, body parts cut open. The medic that helped patch up Troy alongside you and Perseus was there, glancing at him and Donovan.

“About time, Basil has already thrown up three times,” the medic stated, eyeing the large general who was keeling over the sink, “Make it four times.” Tyreen was staring at the body.

“Pip, gives us some good news, and what else you found on those corpses at the stronghold,” Troy ventured over to Tyreen, nudging her slightly. She jumped a bit, relaxing when she noticed it was her brother. 

“Well, where to start? Aside from the fact this is probably the most fucked up body I have seen in my medical career in Dahl and out here in the wastes,” Pip pointed at the metal frame on another table, “The plaything ripped this off from him, this thing replaced the actual spine this man originally had!”

“Wait, you’re serious? How the fuck is that possible?” Moksha asked, eyeing the metal frame, “Everything in our bodies is stuck to our spine, rip that shit out and we’re dead!” Troy touched his own spine connector, grimacing. Tyreen noticed his unease.

“It’s not entirely impossible, but you would require extensive knowledge of the nervous system and a steady hand... as well as the best tools…” Pip picked up a vial from a nearby tray, “This vial was stuck to the metal frame, I checked the footage from the surveyors, bastard bulked up in size?”

Troy nodded, “Yeah, his hand an explosive body mod…” Tyreen looked away, recalling what happened to him. 

“I ran some tests, the toxicology report did not show up anything ‘abnormal’ so to speak… but…” Pip said, a little nervous. He was tapping the vial on the metal tray.

“But…?” Tyreen asked, not liking his tone.

“My first thoughts were steroids or something to cause the increase in body mass. It’s not, it’s blood,” Pip stared at the generals, “The empty vials and this one show traces of blood.”

“Oh, I think I’m going to throw up again…” Basil ran back to the sink.

“Blood? Not this freak’s own blood?” Donovan had a look of disgust hearing Basil throw up again.

Pip shook his head, “No, this thing had two types of blood. His own and the one connected to the metal spine frame. From what I could tell, the bloods didn’t intermix. The few corpses brought over from the stronghold also had small vials in their body. The blood matches all of them.”

“That’s one thing, what about the other pressing matter I asked about, Pip?” Tyreen asked, “I was unable to use my Siren powers on him… He claimed that his body was immune to it.”

“As for that, I’m not sure. His spine, hand, and part of his neck and from the skull fragments showed heavy body modifications. He had plug connectors to his neck, which Troy mentioned the red surveyor connected to,” Pip continued, “Although, there is something troubling me…”

“And that is?” Troy inquired, poking the metal spine frame. 

“The metal frame… I felt I had seen a similar structure to it…” Pip brought up a diagram of a spine connector, nervous system wiring, and metal plates.

Troy’s.

The twins looked at Pip.

“This man’s metal spine frame is an extremely enhanced version of Troy’s,” Pip stared at the body, “No need for an external connector to the brain or an external spine brace…” 

“You’ve got to be shitting me…” Troy muttered.

“How did the plaything know how to fix it?” Pip faced the twins. 

The medic general had provided more questions than answers. The twins weren’t sure how to respond. They were aware that you had knowledge of robotics from your first encounter with them at the Skullmashers’ camp. You had used two robots to fight Troy.

“Please continue your work, Pip. Everyone, we will be heading out to conduct a blood ritual at the Red Vault for Troy,” Tyreen stated, voice strained, “Anything said here does not leave this place, understood?”

“Yes, our God Queen!” the generals saluted. Troy stared at the headless body, nervous.

Tyreen approached Troy, whispering, “Mother will make sure you are healed up…”

\------0000000------

The Calypsos were gone for a few days and surprisingly, no one came to bother you. Not that you cared anyway. You expected as such considering how brutal the last raid was for everyone, including you. Despite that, you were still ambushed, which you chalked up as being Prophet Donovan’s doing rather than Helen since none of your assailants spoke about their ‘lady friend.’

“Hm, at least you aren’t torturing them,” Perseus said, standing next to you. He was observing your handiwork, slightly in fear and awe. You glanced at him, “So you don’t like this either?”

“Oh, whatever works for you…” Perseus shrugged, unsure. He was getting uncomfortable with this change in behavior.

You snorted, looking up at the wall of a building. Stuck to it were five cultists who tried to attack you while on you and Perseus on the way to the bar, their necks twisted, hanging from the embedded metal spikes. You smiled, remembering their screams as you pounced on them, delivering the last blow.

/Feed upon their fear./

“You said Prophet Donovan might have been the one sending them?” Perseus asked, following you back to the bar. 

“Probably, could be Helen, I already warned them,” you grinned, “You think I should go after them? Kill them? Hang them as well?” You turned to look at him, a small giggle escaping your lips. The thought of chasing them down was getting you excited.

Perseus stared at you in disbelief, “Don’t.”

“Why not? I’ll just throttle them a bit, smack them around,” you kept going, hands twitching, “I want to know what their eyes look like with fear in them….”

You felt a slight punch on your arm. You stared at Perseus.

“Stop it,” he hissed out, grabbing your arm, “This isn’t like you!”

“You don’t know me, Perseus,” you leaned forward, “Nobody does.”

“I am well aware of that, but I can tell you aren’t like this, Andromeda,” Perseus insisted, gripping tighter your arm, “You broke down in the back room of the bar when you talked about the Vipers…”

You flinched, pulling back, growling. 

“You hate Cepheus… The Vipers… You went into panic mode when we were getting near that Atlas stronghold…” Perseus whispered, “Now that creature thing that attacked the Twin Gods… that YOU managed to defeat…”

You looked down at the floor, rubbing your wrists. He had been harping at you for answers.

“I don’t know your whole story… Heck, you don’t know mine either,” Perseus continued, a pleading look thrown at you, “But whatever it is, it hurt you deeply… I can tell you hurt when spiraling into this bloodthirsty mentality…”

He wasn’t wrong. The nightmares have become more vivid, horrible. Dark memories have resurfaced, taunting and haunting you at every waking moment and attacking you in your sleep. Restless nights have passed that you refused to shut your eyes. After fighting the mutated man, you were itching to tear into flesh, hearing cries of pain, screams of fear. It frightened you how quick your mind spiraled out of control.

“….Let’s get some drinks… our break time is almost over…” you whispered, grabbing Perseus’s hand, “We’ll talk more later.”

Perseus squeezed your hand, smiling a bit.

\-----00000------

You yelped, snarling at every impact of the whip on your back. Cepheus kept going, whipping with ferocity and strength. Every impact created more gashes, the smell of blood driving you crazy. You were on your knees, breathing heavily.

“You are WEAK! How do you expect to survive the ring if you don’t give it all!” Cepheus shouted, whipping harder. You yelled, trying to get a grip on the floor. Glaring back at Cepheus, you quickly sprung from your position, trying to land a punch on the old man. Using the whip, he landed a hit on your shoulder, causing you to stumble back. 

With this opening, his fist met your jaw, the force throwing you on the floor. You hollered out in pain, spitting out blood, getting up. 

“That’s more like it…! Never show any weakness to your opponent!” Cepheus commanded, taunting you, “Come at me again!”

You screamed, running towards him. He moved aside, bringing the whip to hit your leg. You didn’t flinch, immediately sweeping at his legs. Caught off guard, Cepheus left his sides open, allowing you to lay several blows with your fists. First few hits landed, the old man bracing himself for the subsequent blows before grabbing and throwing you off. 

Like before, you regained balance, lunging at him, repeating the attacks and getting thrown off. The whipping got more heavier, leaving large gashes on your legs, arms, shoulders, and back. A few managed to hit your face and chest. 

Panting heavily, you stood weakly a few feet from Cepheus, arms up, ready to attack again.

“That’s it… That’s it… I like that expression on your face… Hardened, ready to kill…” Cepheus brought up the whip, lashing out. The end landed on your shoulder. Before he could pull back, you coiled the end around your wrist, pulling it towards you. Cepheus’s eyes widen when you gripped the handle, whipping at his feet. 

“Hahaha! Nice thinking!” Cepheus shouted, stepping back with each whip attack. You kept going on, trying to push him further and further back of the training room. He picked up on your strategy to corner him, giving you a roaring laugh. With great precision, he managed to step on the whip, side-stepping and punching you on the face. 

You landed backwards, nursing your injured cheek. Cepheus grabbed the abandoned whip, ready to strike.

“Enough!”

Cepheus froze, glancing back. You sat up, breathing heavily. 

The Maliwan man shook his head, approaching you, “Dear, this brute treating you harshly again.” He gently touched your cheek, tsking, “You did well, I’m proud of you. Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” You nodded, grabbing his offering hand. The man wrapped an arm around you, helping keep your balance. Cepheus spat out his toothpick, staring at the Maliwan man leave with you.

The old bandit could hear the man giving you praises and saw the weak smile you were giving him, nodding at something the man told you. 

“I’m trying to keep her alive… I’m trying to keep her alive…” Cepheus repeated to himself, “I’m so sorry Hephaestus… I broke my promise…”

\-----000000------

The ride was a quiet one, but full of tension. Tyreen kept glaring at Helen who was looking away, the priestess holding Troy’s hand. The tall Calypso was staring at Tyreen, face low. His sister switched, now glaring at him. Pip had let slip, after the twins and the generals had finished up the meeting at the morgue, that you had come by to drop off Troy’s white jacket when the Calypso man was still recovering from his operation. The God Queen got more agitated.

Donovan, the one driving the war technical, kept glancing at the rearview mirror at them, sighing. 

“We’re almost there, weather seems to be nice for once,” Donovan said, breaking the silence. Tyreen kept glaring, “Good to know, I need some fresh air…”

Troy let out a small growl, sitting up straight. Helen didn’t budge from her position. They were ways off from the CoV stronghold, heading towards the mountainous region at the edge of the wastes. Plant life was scarce, the ground not providing enough nutrients. Several bodies were scattered about, the surviving foliage clinging to it. A light, red mist covered the area as they ventured further up the mountain side. 

Reaching their destination, everyone stepped out, Tyreen grabbing Troy’s hand away from Helen. Donovan held Helen back who hissed out, watching as the twins approached armed cultists and priests that were present at the site, waiting for them. Two large Badass Psychos, robbed in crimson, bowed at them.

“We give our flesh to the Twin Gods…” one said.

“Let us help you in your trek to the Red Vault…” the other finished. 

Tyreen nodded, letting go of Troy’s hand as one of the Badass Psychos picked up her brother. She led the way upwards the treacherous path up the side of the mountain, where a dense, red mist had settled. They had traveled this path numerous times, each instance grueling for Troy, even with help. 

It’s for his sake, Tyreen thought, all for her brother’s sake.

The emergency operation had weakened Troy’s body, a blood ritual had to be conducted.

\----00000----

The Calypsos alongside the two Badass Psychos reached the entrance of the Red Vault, a small cavern, all of them catching their breaths. Troy whimpered, clutching the red vials resting on his chest, desperately.

“We’re almost there, little brother…” Tyreen whispered, ushering the Badass Psychos to follow her. She extended her Siren arm out, the tattoos glowing brightly as it activated a small portal gate. Swirls of red, orange, and yellow filled the small cavern, low moans and wails echoing all around. 

“Let’s go,” Tyreen ordered, walking into the portal, the Badass Psychos following, carrying Troy. The area they stepped in mimicked a marshland, for the exception that the pools of water were of red color, crystals scattered around faintly glowing and illuminated short distances ahead. At the bottom of these pools laid corpses and skeletal remains. Every step they took, their boots got covered in blood and gunk. 

Venturing further, they reached a small altar that was covered in bones, blood gushing and pumping through the veins etched on the surface. Tyreen lifted her hand up, ordering the Badass Psychos to stop.

“Mother, we have come to seek assistance. I offer two sacrifices as tribute,” Tyreen knelt down, her Siren tattoos glowing and reacting to the blood at the altar, “Please accept them!”

The red mist surrounding the marshlands thickened, a pair of glowing eyes appearing in the distance. A low rumbling noise disturbed the blood pools, crimson vines sprouted near the Badass Psychos, wrapping themselves around their feet. Both psychos grunted, gently placing Troy down. The tall Calypso stumbled forward, passing by Tyreen and laying on the altar.

“I’m ready…” Troy whispered, breathing heavily. 

Tyreen jumped a bit when she heard thrashing emanating from the glowing eyes who watched her with great curiosity. Despite doing this blood ritual several times, she felt unease as the eyes stared at back her. 

In a quick swipe, the Badass Psychos let out a yelp, the bodies disappearing into the ground. Tyreen kept her powers activated, assisting the crimson vines to reach Troy. Her brother screamed out, arching his back as the vines stabbed him on the sides, pumping blood into him. Red marks adorned his left arm and part of his face, flashing before disappearing. The dim vials that that rattled on his chest held a healthy glow. Troy gasped for air, the crimson vines wrapping around his body.

“A weak body… he possesses…” a distance voice said, “I need more sacrifices….!”

Tyreen bowed her head, “Please mother! Be patient! I’ll offer double! Triple!” 

Leto, the twins’ mother, emerged from the red mist, approaching the altar, “Make mother proud…. You need to get more sacrifices… Otherwise, I won’t be able to heal Troy…” She patted the vine cocoon, a faint heart beat present from inside. Tyreen whimpered, looking up.

“P-Please… Please heal him…” the white-haired Calypso begged, “I-I can’t lose him!”

“It’s okay, my child. He’ll be healed this time around… You two can’t be so reckless, you are not little kids anymore,” Leto smiled, sitting at the altar, “These injuries will catch up to you in old age…” She chuckled, staring off at a distance. 

“Thank you…” Tyreen whispered, sobbing a little. Leto beckoned for the white-haired Calypso to approach her, the latter complying. 

“Rest my child, it will take a while for the blood ritual to be complete,” Leto patted Tyreen on the head, nudging her to lay down next to the vine cocoon, “You look awfully exhausted…”

Tyreen nodded, curling up next to Troy, “Okay…” She felt like a small child again. Whenever Troy would get sick, their mother would nurse him back to health, Tyreen dutifully at Troy’s side, waiting. Leto never separated them, believing that somehow the twins provided emotional and mental support for each other. 

Soon, Tyreen fell asleep. Leto reached out to place her hand on Tyreen’s forehead and another on the vine cocoon, her hands glowing red. She closed her eyes while chuckling, viewing the memories of the twins. 

“Interesting, both of you fancy the same person. This is a first… I wonder how this will play out…” Leto smirked, removing her hands, “I hope you two are prepared for some mayhem…”

The red glowing eyes watched from a distance, a low growl echoing the bloody marshlands.

\-----00000-----

Tyreen shyly looked at you, a smile on her lips. You reached out touch her cheek, earning a small chuckle from the God Queen. She closed the gap between the two of you, kissing you softly. You didn’t pull back, only resting your hand from her cheek to her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

You had emerged victorious from another arena fight, Tyreen bestowing her good graces on you. Your wet hair stuck to your face and shoulders, giving you an ethereal look. 

“So beautiful…” Tyreen whispered, giving you another kiss, “My little doll… My precious doll. What are you doing to me? The way you move in the arena… the way you choke the life out of others…” She moaned, pressing her nude body against yours. You whimpered as she nipped at your lip, feeling Tyreen’s skin getting hot. 

She hungrily kissed you again, excited you were reciprocating. When she and you parted for air, you were smirking, breathing heavily.

“She doesn’t belong to you…” you whispered, your expression turning dark, voice deep. Tyreen froze, staring down at you. Laughing, you glared at her, “This body is immune to your powers, Siren….” Tyreen felt her body shake, unable to look away as ‘you’ kept taunting her.

“Calypsos… You can’t run away from me….!” you shouted, grabbing Tyreen from her shoulders, digging your nails into her skin, “YOU CAN’T RUN AWAY FROM ME!”

Tyreen screamed.

\------000000---------

“Ty…!”

Tyreen kept screaming, hitting at the hands trying to hold her.

“TYREEN!”

Tyreen opened her eyes, breathing heavily. She was met with Troy’s chest, her brother hugging her tightly. She clung to him, trying to catch her breath.

“Ty, it’s okay. I’m here…” Troy whispered, rubbing her back, “It’s okay…” She could feel him shaking a bit. Tyreen let out a tiny sob, “I-I… I’m sorry… this wasn’t supposed to happen…”

“It’s not your fault, Ty,” her brother held her tight, resting his chin on her head, “Shh…”

Tyreen glanced at their surroundings. They were no longer inside the Red Vault but back at the base camp. Had she fallen into a deep sleep that bad? The operation was hard on Troy but everything else hit her twice. She was still tormented by her Siren powers being nullified. 

/This body is immune to your powers, Siren!/ The mutated man had yelled that, boastful. 

/You’re a Siren monster! To think there’s more of you around!/ You kept yelling that not too long ago. Had you met another Siren? Were there other Sirens involved with you? Her own powers, as far as she knew, worked on anyone with a beating heart. 

/How did the plaything know how to fix it?/ Pip was baffled that a bandit from the wastes, who was a mechanic, was able to mend Troy’s spine connector without knowing the blueprints. In the spur of the moment, no one questioned it as everyone was frantic in saving Troy’s life. 

“Did mother tell you anything?” Tyreen whispered, hiccupping. 

“She only scolded us for getting hurt,” Troy ran his hand through Tyreen’s hair, “I suppose both of us have been spooked bad, huh?” His sister clutched at his jacket.

“We should head back, we need to play the part that everything is fine and dandy…” Troy hugged Tyreen tighter, “As it should be…”

Tyreen cried in Troy’s arms.

\------0000000000---------

Mouthpiece’s hologram appeared in the arena, pumping up the crowd as they shouted and chanted praises for the Calypsos.

“LOUDER!”

“CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

/CALYPSOS! YOU ARE NOT RUNNING AWAY FROM ME!/

“CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

“PRAISE THE CALYPSOS!” Mouthpiece yelled, raising his arms up.

“PRAISE THE GOD QUEEN! PRAISE FATHER TROY!” the crowd roared, the surveyors whooshing by, dancing with the wave of fanatics. The enthusiasm was off the charts, everyone going insane. They were waiting for this moment, to get another glimpse of the God Queen’s plaything in action. The last raid had been declared a success but the celebration had been postponed till now. 

No one questioned it. No one knew about the horrors the Calypsos and their generals saw. No one knew about the large number of corpses stashed away in crates.

No one knew about the God Queen’s Siren powers failing. No one knew about the large, mutated man. No one knew about Father Troy almost dying.

No one knew about the sadistic, unhinged plaything.

And that’s how it was to remain to the Calypsos’ flock.

Tyreen was sitting in her throne, waving at the surveyors with a strained smile. Next to her was Troy in his throne, but he wasn’t alone. Helen was sitting next to him, on a smaller throne, her hand slightly touching Troy’s. The Calypsos were flanked by her and the generals that participated in the raid. 

“A SUCCESSFUL RAID! ANOTHER CELEBRATION!” Mouthpiece sang out, “Let the playthings in!”

The crowd roared, flashing fan signs, whooping. The playthings entered the arena, eager to spill blood. Perseus, alongside the mechanics, cheered as they saw you enter, sporting a grin. 

You were wearing a black tank top, your brown cargo pants and heavy-duty steel-toed boots. For all to see, you had your dagger gadget exposed. Chains were neatly strapped to your belt, rattling with every step. You no longer had the jacket, Helen having been the culprit for ripping it apart in a fit of jealousy. Jackal looked on nervous from inside your waiting room as the walls closed up access into the arena.

Tyreen observed you, then glanced at Troy and Helen.

“LET MAYHEM OCCUR!” Mouthpiece shouted, alarms going off. 

The playthings descended onto to each other, guns blazing and grenades exploding but you casually walked towards the middle of the arena, sitting on a piece of debris, ignoring the questioning looks of the crowd.

“What is she doing?” “She’s not running to hide…?” “Kill!”

“Go mechanic, go!” “She’s just sitting!”

You slumped down, a bored look on your face. A surveyor descended on you, beeping. It shrieked when you grabbed it, keeping it firm in your arms. 

Perseus blinked, confused. The generals kept looking at the Calypsos while Helen stared down at you. The twins remained in their seats, quiet. 

/This is mere child’s play./ Cepheus voice rang again through their minds. 

They had witnessed you go insane against the mutated man. The playthings present were not worth your time and you were showing that to them. 

To everyone. 

“My God Queen, what shall we do? She’s just sitting there….?” Mouthpiece beeped in through the EchoNet device.

Tyreen grabbed tight at the armrests of her throne, “Leave her alone, let the other playthings do their thing.”

“But-“

“Leave her alone,” Tyreen hissed out, trying to keep her composure in front of everyone. Troy drummed his fingers, irritated. 

You were playing with the surveyor, twirling and throwing it up and down in the air with no care in the world. Then, you stood up. The crowd picked up on this, waiting. Rattling the poor bot, you kicked it, the surveyor hitting a bruiser on the head who got knocked out. You laughed.

The crowd went crazy, watching as you ran towards the bruiser, picked up the surveyor and proceeded to kick the bot again to another plaything. This kept going until the bot was destroyed. All along you kept laughing as if playing catch with the other competitors. When a marauder approached you from behind, you immediately turned around and punched him square in the face. 

“SHE LANDS A HIT!” Mouthpiece yelled, slightly unsure. Your odd behavior was throwing everyone out of loop. 

You kept punching the marauder, dealing low blows and upper cutting him, your dagger and chains forgotten. The feeling of flesh and the sound of crushing bones was exciting you. Utilizing a metal rod from a broken concrete slab, you swung it down on his face, hearing him scream. The crowd went wild.

“SPILL BLOOD! SPILL BLOOD!” they chanted. 

Energized, you kept swinging, laughing at the sound of broken bones. A surveyor crept up close to record the action. You hissed at the bot, swinging the metal rod at it, hitting it far off. 

“She’s destroying our equipment…!” Basil growled out, looking at the Calypsos. The twins stayed quiet, staring ahead.

Another bruiser ventured close, shooting you at point blank. Your shield took the impact of it, allowing you to lunged towards the bruiser, whacking him on the head with the metal rod. With every swing, the crowd gasped and shouted. Perseus looked away, unable to stomach the brutality. You were no longer trying to kill the playthings, you were torturing them. 

Cackling, you pounced on another plaything, swinging the metal rod at the back of their head, gush of blood showering you. With great force, you swung again and again and again. Everyone started to notice a pattern. Pounce, swing, crush their heads. 

Pounce, swing, crush their heads. 

Pounce, swing, crush their heads. 

All the playthings that crossed paths with you met the same fate and you came out unscathed. The last remaining plaything was a Goliath who stood frozen in his spot, afraid. 

“Come here…” you purred out, holding the metal rod, ready to swing, “I promise it won’t hurt… much…” 

The Goliath took a deep breath, stepping backwards, shaking his head. He immediately turned around, running. You had a wide grin, cackling. 

“COME BACK HERE!” you shouted, giving chase. The crowd went crazy, whooping and cheering as you chased the Goliath around. Unheard of. Unbelievable. Your debut match had you running away from a Goliath, now this one was frightened, escaping from you. You taunted the Goliath, yelling obscenities, increasing the fear factor by catching up to him and then slowing your pace and resuming your close distance.

“Get away from me!” the Goliath yelled, pleading, “Get away!”

“You are only prolonging the inevitable!” you shouted, swinging the metal rod around, whipping through the air, “Be a good boy and let me kill you!” Getting impatient, you threw the rod at the back of his legs, causing the Goliath to stumble and fall over. Excitement was written on your face as you crouched, hissing, prowled. 

“SHE IS STARING DOWN AT HER PREY!” Mouthpiece sang out, glued to the action, “THE LAST TWO PLAYTHINGS ON THE FIELD!” The crowd roared, eager. 

Perseus glanced at the Calypsos, who had remained quiet for the majority of the Let’s Flay. Tyreen was only staring at the arena, unmoving but Troy was having a hard time keeping still, fidgety, growling. You were circling the Goliath, giggling.

“Have mercy….!” The Goliath said, nursing his leg. You deeply inhaled, closing your eyes.

/SHOW MERCY!/

You licked your bloody lips.

/NEVER!/

Your hands twitched, they ached to feel soft flesh. The Goliath was the only one near to provide it. You wondered if his flesh was tough or soft judging by his body structure. Your mind was going insane trying to pick the best spot.

“I’m the last person to ask for mercy…” you murmured, inching closer. The crowd was on edge, waiting, engrossed in the action. They hadn’t seen you this unhinged before. They wanted more. 

With no warning, you pounced on the Goliath, aiming for his head. The behemoth tried to throw you off, but you grabbed on tight to its helmet, tugging.

“What the hell! She’s going to rip his helmet off?!” someone yelled.

“She’s crazy!” “She’s going to get herself killed!” “Foolish!”

“Insane!” “That is a crazy plaything!”

“A RISKY MANEUVER OR LAST DITCH EFFORT?!” Mouthpiece announced, his hologram appearing, surveyors dancing around him and flying over towards you. With a hard pull, you ripped off the helmet clean off. 

The crowd went quiet, astonished. 

“What did she do…?” Donovan muttered, at the edge of his seat. The generals stared, gulping. The Calypsos, despite the action, remained glued to their seats, Troy growing desperate.

You held the Goliath’s helmet, laughing, holding it up and throwing it away. The Goliath’s spine had been pulled off clean, the body twitching as you dug into the squirting, bloody flesh. Using your hands, you began tearing into the skin, gleeful. It was soft as you had expected.

“Mouthpiece,” Troy muttered, his EchoNet device on his lap, “Call the victor.”

“Father Troy-?”

“Do it,” Troy ordered, grabbing tight onto his throne. Tyreen glanced at him. 

“As you wish…” Mouthpiece said, turning on the feed on his end, “THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING IS VICTORIOUS! PRAISE THE CALYPSOS!”

“CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

/CALYPSOS! YOU ARE NOT RUNNING AWAY FROM ME!/ Troy winced, touching his mechanical arm. 

“CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

You got up, swatting away at the surveyors while you walked towards the side of the arena, disappearing into your waiting room. The crowd kept chanting, praising. Mouthpiece’s hologram riled up the cultists, fireworks setting off. The generals got up, clapping for the performance of the God Queen’s plaything. They had to play the part of supporters.

The twins remained in their seats. 

Their EchoNet devices laid neatly on their laps, the chat of the Let’s Flay LiveScream displayed. Thousands and thousands of messages flooded the chat by an ‘Unknown User’ who kept spamming smiley faces, daggers, and X symbols, overwhelming the chat moderators. The last message displayed before the chat was disabled:

.:Unknown User: She looks beautiful in red, doesn’t she? ;)

An upside-down blue triangle was the emoji used. 

\-----00000-----

Cold water soaked your entire body as you leaned against the shower stall, watching the blood run down the tiled walls and into the drain. You were shaking, numb. You weren’t able to recall what happened in the last hours or so, your mind a mess. Only when you snapped out of it, your body was eager to remind you of the consequences of the trauma. The bloody trail leading into the showers was the tell-tale sign you had been in the arena, partaking in the celebration. 

Feeling bile coming up, you hunched over, throwing up. Your body felt on fire as you emptied your stomach. You washed off the horrible taste, ignoring water going into your nose. Staring at your hands, you saw chunks of flesh under your nails. Yelping, you quickly tried cleaning them in vain. 

“N-No… no… this isn’t… this isn’t happening,” you cried out, hugging yourself, the water still drenching your shaking body, “This… isn’t… happening…” You grabbed your head, wincing in pain. 

/Come home, please./

“N-No…!” you yelled.

/Come home, please./

“N-Never!” you shouted.

/I love you./ “I hate you,” you whispered to no one. You stared off in the distance, lost. 

“Where am I?” you asked, blinking.

“With the Children of the Vault.”

You turned to face the source of the voice. Troy was standing by the entrance of the showers, looking down at you. 

“Unfortunate,” you muttered, “How did you know I was here?” You tried to get up, leaning against the wall for support.

“You left three priests dead on your way here, plus Jackal pointed at the direction you went,” Troy stated as if it was normal, “I doubt you want me to go into details on the state I found those priests in.”

You shrugged, “So now what.” You didn’t recall anything anyway.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Troy approached you, extending his human arm out. You stared at it before reaching out to grab it. Carefully, he led you out back to the medical room, patient in your weak pace. He didn’t question it. He didn’t question why the feral plaything was now holding on to him for support to walk. The feral plaything that chased down a Goliath like a skag pup. 

As you both entered the medical room, you noticed Tyreen’s absence.

“She’s not here…” you weren’t asking, merely stating the obvious. Troy shook his head, unsure if you were happy, “She said you weren’t injured, left this one to me.”

“Wonderful,” you growled out, weak. The bath had been set, Troy dismissing the priests who scurried off, afraid of your presence. You removed your wet clothes, dumping them to the side, getting into the tub. The warm water was welcomed by your aching body.

Troy sat down next to the tub, slightly leaning back. Normally he’d the one to help out cleaning the playthings, but this time he felt it was best to leave you to your own devices. As if reading his mind, you began to clean yourself, washing off the remaining dry blood and guts off your body. 

“No touching this time?” you asked, somewhat amused. Troy glanced back at you, chuckling, “Not this time, I’m afraid.”

You snorted, scrubbing your arms, “That’s a first…” 

“Its against the rules,” Troy said, looking away, “We are not allowed to touch other people’s playthings.”

“What’s this bullshit about playthings… You repeated the same thing with Donovan when he tried to punch me,” you inquired, splashing water on your head, “Some weird rulebook for you sick fucks?”

Troy would have laughed, but he was weary from the Let’s Flay, the chat message from the Unknown User taunting him, “Something like that… that’s usually one of the rules everyone forgets.”

“Huh, I’m assuming you being the culprit… Tyreen did bring up losing several playthings to you because you got greedy,” you looked at him, “Killed them.”

“Yeah…” Troy rubbed the back of his head, “Fun times for me, not for them. They were weak either way.” He looked at you. You hadn’t stopped staring at him.

“What about me?” you said, not breaking eye contact with him.

“What about you?” a small smirk tugged at Troy’s lips.

“How come you didn’t kill me when you had the chance?” your question came out strained as you narrowed your eyes.

Troy blinked, lips thin. Why hadn’t he? Tyreen was already used to having her playthings get killed by her hand, in the arena, or by Troy’s doing. Mostly Troy’s. He did have several chances, you spending the night with him being the prime moment for it. 

But he didn’t.

He admitted to himself that you were an odd one when it came to playthings. Tyreen and Troy were used to having playthings that would immediately settle down and obey their every command out of fear. Eventually, the playthings would relish and seek the twins’ attention before the twins got bored. You, on the other hand, despite months with the Children of the Vault, kept the same attitude as the first day you arrived: Defiant. That excited them.

Plus, your attitude in the arena stirred up emotions. Tyreen liked seeing you inflict pain on others, Troy enjoyed watching you getting the upper hand and dealing the killing blows. But now things were changing. Outside the arena, it was a different story.

Troy had seen you diligently work as a mechanic, taking pride in your work, and being passionate about it. You viewed it as a form of art and he was able to witness it when you painstakingly tuned up and fixed his mechanical arm, even saving his life by reconstructing his spine connector with little materials available. He even felt like a canvas waiting for your expert hands to create a masterpiece. Just you being near him… ignited something in him. Not as the unhinged plaything, but the zealous, calculating mechanic. He never felt anything like this, even with Helen. 

The splashes of water snapped Troy back to reality. You were leaning forward, resting your arm on the side of the tub, still looking at him.

“Well?” you asked, impatient. Your wet hair was covering part of your face. 

Troy got close, pushed some of your hair out the way, placing a small kiss on your lips. You didn’t pull back. 

He broke another rule.

.:Don’t get attached to playthings.:.

\----00000----

Tyreen stared at the screens before her, watching as everyone in the hub went about their daily business. Her flock, former unruly bandits united under a cause, had grown in numbers. It was a harsh truth, but she couldn’t credit it to her or Troy.

But to you.

Since you were captured and forced to participate in the Let’s Flays, viewer and follower numbers had skyrocketed. Bandits that were not under their control swarmed over, pledging their loyalty and allegiance to the Calypsos. Their response? The promise of mayhem, inspired by your fights. The Calypsos’ own promise of food and shelter was merely an added bonus to them.

Her EchoNet device pinged, alerting her of a message received. Curious, she opened it, seeing the image of her and Troy in the underground chamber from the Atlas stronghold. Her eyes widen, noticing the upside-down blue square. A small chat opened up, an unknown user sending her messages.

/Unknown User: I hope you enjoyed my little surprise in the underground freezer. :v/

Tyreen breathing got labored.

/Unknown User: I sleep to Troy’s screams, powerful lungs he has, you know?/

She felt tears stinging her eyes.

/Unknown User: Let this serve as a warning. uvu Don’t call me a coward./

A small sob escaped her, remembering the adrenaline kicking in during the desperate escape from the deranged mutated man. 

/Unknown User: You ran away, tail between your legs. You are the coward. :3c/

No. She wasn’t a coward. Was she? She couldn’t use her powers and Troy paid the price for it.

/Unknown User: She doesn’t belong to you. : ) You can’t tame her./

No. You belonged to Tyreen. To Tyreen Calypso, the God Queen and no one else.

Frustrated, she threw her EchoNet device across the room in anger, the device breaking on impact with the wall. 

/I hate you, you’re a monster…. A Siren monster…/

Your voice taunted her, your face etched in her mind when you spoke those vile words to her. In the first few weeks you were captured, you kept hissing that out to her at every opportunity, Tyreen punishing you until it ceased. She believed that was the end of it until now. She hadn’t spoken or tried to get near you after the raid, using Jackal to send messages or interact but it was becoming less frequent. Was she afraid of you? No. 

She was livid. She was furious she was unable to break you as she had with other playthings. No matter the amount of physical punishment she inflicted, you shrugged it off. The only thing that worked, but she rarely used, was her Siren powers. Every time you’d glance at her Siren tattoos, she’d see a tiny smidge of fear. 

Fear.

A powerful emotion her flock shared with you. They were afraid of her. She’d be able to walk through a sea of people and they’d part away, groveling at her feet. But at the end of the road, you’d be standing there, looking at her in disgust, unmoving. Your type of fear was different from the cultists. While they begged for mercy, you were the kind to still look down at her. Fear was present, but it wasn’t enough to bend you at her will.

She had to change that.

\------000000-------

Little Tyreen held Steele’s hand tight as they walked by a flank of Crimson Lance soldiers, the child quietly sobbing. The soldiers stood erect, waiting for Steele to speak.

“Cease that behavior, child! You are a Siren, you need to display utmost decorum in front of the soldiers!” Steele scolded Tyreen, further scaring the child who cried more.

“I want my mummy and brother….” Tyreen wailed, tugging at Steele’s hand, “I want to go home…!” She broke out, wailing and throwing herself at the floor. The pale Siren growled, roughly grabbing Tyreen from the arm.

“Enough, stop being disobedient!”

Tyreen screamed, crying more, “Mummy! Mummy!”

The soldiers remained in place, watching the scene before them unfold. No one bothered to help the child.

“Steele, unhand her!” a voice shouted. The older Siren turned to face Hephaestus who was walking fast towards her, anger written on his face.

“This does not concern you, Hephaestus!” Steele let go of Tyreen, the child immediately running towards Hephaestus, sobbing. She grabbed on to his leg, the man picking her up. Tyreen hid her face on his shoulder, still crying and shaking.

“The hell do you think you were doing?!” shouted Hephaestus, holding Tyreen in a protective embrace, “She’s just a child, not a soldier!” He had gone to check up on Troy, the boy was crying about his sister, Leto unable to calm the child down. Troy kept mumbling about the ‘pale monster.’

“She’s a Siren! She needs to learn already her place in Atlas! In the Crimson Lance…” Steele hissed out, approaching him, “Give me the child.”

“You’re a damn lunatic is what you are! I’m not handing her to you!” Hephaestus growled, slightly snarling, “Over my dead body…”

“We can arrange that…” Steele threatened, her Siren tattoos glowing. Before she could reach out to him, several Atlas generals walked in, stopping behind Hephaestus. Tyreen shrunk more into Hephaestus’s hold. 

“You know the rules Steele, you are not to harm Hephaestus, he is an important asset to Atlas,” one of the generals spoke, “Supreme Commander Gaia would be quite disappointed if any harm befell on her son.” Steele gasped, saluted.

“M-My apologies… I don’t know what came over me!” Steele mumbled, gulping. A rare instance of her apologizing, but Hephaestus wasn’t sure if she was being sincere. He didn’t care. He needed to get Tyreen back with her mother and Troy. Holding Tyreen tight, Hephaestus shoved past the generals who began inspecting the soldiers, Steele staring at his retreating form.

“Thank you, mister,…” Tyreen whispered, sniffing. Hephaestus rubbed her back, giving her a small smile. 

Soon she wouldn’t have to deal with this mess.

\---00000----

The Calypsos sat at their dining table, eating quietly, priests moving about and serving them food and refilling their drinks. They bowed, retreating to another room. Troy kept picking at his food while Tyreen took several bites and pushed the plate away from her. Tension was still present between the Twin Gods.

“She asked about you,” Troy said, looking down at his food.

“Bullshit,” Tyreen muttered, gripping tight her fork, “Had fun with her, Troy?” She was seething.

“I didn’t do anything, believe it or not,” Troy growled out, glancing at her, “Spent most of the time cleaning the mess she left behind in the arena’s hallways…she killed some priests.”

“Fantastic, good to hear!” Tyreen raised her arms up, “Tell me more, little brother. Tell me how you and my plaything are getting along while she despises me!” She slammed her fists down, her cup spilling over. 

Troy remained unfazed, still eating, “Since when do you care if she likes you.”

“What?” Tyreen glared at him.

“Did you get attached?” Troy took a sip from his cup, placing it down, “That’s one of the rules, Ty. Don’t get attached to playthings…”

Tyreen pushed off the dishes from the table, kicking her chair back, “How dare you! Like you are one to talk! You got attached to your fucking bedwarmer!”

Troy took a deep breath, “We’re talking about you, Ty. My mess is no concern for you.” He tilted his head, staring at his sister, “Why do you care about her feelings?” It wasn’t a malicious question, he was genuinely interested. This was a first for both of them, but mostly for Tyreen, seeing her riled up by a plaything. 

Tyreen looked away, growling, clenching her fist, “I don’t.”

“Doesn’t sound like it. I saw you glaring at the mechanic friend of hers. What’s his name? Perseus something? You’re jealous of a bandit mechanic?” Troy leaned back on his seat. 

“I am NOT jealous of a stupid bandit mechanic! I don’t care if she is smiling or laughing with him! I don’t care if she’s joking or hanging out with him!” Tyreen shouted, shoulders shaking, “She’s mine! I can do whatever the fuck I want with her!”

Troy kept staring at her, slightly shaking his head, “You have a strong case of denial, sis.”

“Troy…” Tyreen hissed out.

“You feel threatened,” Troy whispered, seeing this with a certain someone of his, “Lashing out isn’t going to help your case…”

“Its not going to help your case either, don’t concern yourself for MY mess…” Tyreen spat out, storming off the dining room. Troy watched as his sister left, touching his own lips. The feeling of your lips on his was still fresh on his mind. He grimaced, realizing his own mess was waiting for him to come back to her arms. 

\-----000000-----

“Tonight is clear and beautiful, you can see the stars,” Perseus said, hands resting on the back of his head, “I remember back in my old bandit camp, you could see the entire night sky…”

You nodded, slightly mesmerized by the bright stars, “Yeah… I used to go on top of a hut and watch the sky starting from sunset, sometimes I’d go drive off to a cliff and watch it from there…”

You and Perseus were laying on the roof of the warehouse, done for the day. After the arena fight and Troy leaving you alone, you ventured off to the bar, the warehouse mechanics throwing you a celebration party for your victory. Surprised, you accepted their gift basket of booze, pack of smokes, and a dirty magazine, although you didn’t smoke or partake in glancing through those types of magazines. You promptly traded the cigarettes for more booze but decided to keep the magazine, curious. After the little party, Perseus ushered you back to the warehouse for star gazing.

“Where I’m from… there was hardly any electronic devices to use for navigation, only relying on the stars for direction,” Perseus said, smiling. 

“Hm, and where was this?” you asked, glancing at him. 

“On the west side of the wastes, used to be part of this bandit camp called the Blitzkriegs. Bunch of ruffians and crazy knife-nuts, fun bandits though,” Perseus replied, grinning at you, “They ventured off and met with the Calypsos.”

You blinked, “Did they get killed…?”

Perseus shook his head, “No. The Twin Gods promised food and shelter in exchange for our loyalty and body, to give our flesh to them. It was hard times out there in the west, so we all joined.”

“Oh…” you looked up at the sky, “Then what…?”

“I was assigned as a mechanic upon entering the cult, I was in charge of keeping maintenance of the Blitzkriegs’ technicals and stuff. I worship the Calypsos… Father Troy has this imposing air on him, the God Queen looks like she’s ready to destroy anyone… Stuff like that is what us bandits seek in a leader...” Perseus continued, sitting up, “The Blitzkrieg bandit leader wasn’t a fool, he knew that he needed to bend his knee to keep his head on.” He made no mention of the bloody Father Troy he took part in saving.

“You don’t say…” you murmured, sitting up as well, “Do you miss the freedom?”

“Freedom?” Perseus turned to face you, “What freedom?”

“Freedom to be able to go where you please, freedom to leave at any time you want, freedom to just… be free…” you whispered, hugging your knees. 

Perseus frowned, “A little… but I feel it’s not that bad… at least for me… what about you?”

“I miss it every day. I don’t have the freedom to abstain from the arena fights. I don’t like fighting. Never did, but I had to. I had to in order to survive. Nobody is going to protect me. It falls on me.” The mechanic wondered if you were telling the last parts to yourself. 

“A plaything is discarded or killed,” Perseus repeated, feeling you lean against his shoulder, “No freedom unless dead…right?”

“Right…”

At least you had the small freedom of a sympathetic shoulder to cry on.

\------00000000---------

Helen wiped the tears that didn’t cease as she sat on her chair, refusing to look at Troy who was standing a few feet from her. Shoulders shaking, she broke down, covering her face.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” she asked, sobbing, “Tyreen’s plaything?”

Troy didn’t respond, only sighing. He nervously tapped at the night stand near him as a distraction.

“Its so fucking obvious, the way you looked at her in the arena…” Helen continued, hiccupping, “The other times as well, in your bedroom, out in the bandit technical, during the Harvest. Even while you were recovering from the operation, you still called out to her…”

Troy ran a hand through his hair, agitated, unsure on what to say. He never dealt with this before. He wanted to comfort Helen but he was the one causing her the pain. 

“At least answer me!” Helen shouted, glaring up at him, “Don’t just stand there!” Troy got spooked, finally looking at her. 

“Is it her?” Helen asked again.

Troy nodded, “Yes…” There. He said it. The reason he was breaking it off with Helen.

You.

Helen’s laughter caught him off guard. The high priestess was hugging herself, crying, “I don’t know if its funny or not… but damn… just damn…”

“What are you talking about?” Troy asked, aware of Helen’s violent outbursts.

“You know Troy, I’ve always been the one to clean up the dead playthings you and Tyreen would kill… Of course, you had no competition there for attention… but with the other…’bedwarmers,’ they mysteriously disappeared…” Helen whispered, chuckling, “Before the ‘bedwarmers’ found themselves in your arms…”

The tall Calypso narrowed his eyes. He knew where she was going with this.

“But what are you going to do this time around?” she asked in a mocking tone, now smiling at him, “When the competition is your own sister. Don’t tell me I’m lying. Tyreen’s attraction to her plaything is obvious as well.” She also didn’t need to say anything about the God Queen’s jealousy with Perseus. It was on full display when after Troy’s operation.

“…”

“I thought so… Request someone else to help dispose of the body,” Helen said, getting up and walking towards the window in her study, gazing outside into the hub, “Conflict of interest, you now how business works…”

“Whose body?” Troy questioned, clenching his fist. He hoped she wasn’t threatening you.

“Whoever drops dead first from you three,” Helen snorted, glancing back at him.

“Let’s hope its not yours then either,” Troy warned, “Tyreen has already made it clear as well that she doesn’t want you near her plaything lest you want to get punished, so if you lay a finger on the plaything…I won’t be able to bail you out…”

Helen snorted, turning to face out the window, “Noted… Now, get out.”

Troy gave her a curt nod, walking out. As soon as he closed the door, he could hear Helen crying out in anger, Troy’s heart squeezing. 

\-----00000000------

Hephaestus handed over some tools to Troy, who eagerly hugged them. The boy had requested for a quick tutorial on how to conduct maintenance on his arm, the old man obliging. Tyreen poked at the tools, Troy moving them out of reach from her.

“Hey!” Tyreen whined, “Let me see them…” Troy shook his head, “No, mine!”

“Now, now, you two. Remember to behave,” Leto scolded them, “Or else Mr. Hephaestus won’t show you how to use those tools.” Hephaestus grinned, nodding. 

Troy huffed, relenting and allowing Tyreen to grab some tools. His older sister clapped in victory, grabbing several small screwdrivers and wrenches. The boy looked peeved. Hephaestus sighed, knowing that look too well from his little sister. 

“You gotta share, Troy. Eventually, you’ll get your own tools,” the man ruffled Troy’s hair, earning a giggle from the boy, “That’s how it works!” Hephaestus opened several compartments of Troy’s arm, beginning his lesson with the twins. He guided them through the wires, what bolts to tighten, which tools to use to reach the smaller sections of the arm, and how to calibrate the gears that allowed Troy’s arm to move. 

For the final steps, he carefully walked through the sensitive part of Troy’s spine connector and what to do in case it came off and he wasn’t around to mend it together. The twins’ mother also paid attention. Due to Troy being the one affected, Hephaestus showed Tyreen the hands-on approach. 

“As his big sister, I will dutifully look after him!” Tyreen announced, standing tall and proud. Troy rolled his eyes, punching her in the arm. Leto threw him a stern look. 

“Ow! Give me those tools!” Tyreen snapped, grabbing the tools near Troy. The twins began fighting, Hephaestus and Leto separating them apart.

“Come on, don’t let me take those tools away. You have to share. Sharing is caring,” Hephaestus informed, poking the twins on their noses, “I will leave them with your mother.”

“I don’t want to share with Tyreen,” Troy pouted.

“Me neither!” Tyreen countered.

“With yourself, how odd, sis!” Troy teased. Tyreen gasped, narrowing her eyes. Hephaestus laughed, Leto grabbing Tyreen from pouncing at Troy.

\-------0000000---------

Donovan inspected this shotgun, cleaning the barrel with a cloth as Troy kept punching a prisoner not far from him. A speck of blood landed on his gun, earning an aggravated sigh from the general. He quickly cleaned off the offending blood splatter.

“Learned your lesson and punching with your other arm?” Donovan inquired, putting his shotgun in a case, grabbing another gun to clean, “Or are you waiting to fuck up your mechanical arm so you can see Tyreen’s plaything?” 

Troy growled, dealing a fatal blow to the prisoner, “Shut your fucking mouth…”

The general chuckled, “What? It’s the truth and you know it. You being here and beating the shit out the prisoners… you fought again with Helen?”

Troy untied the prisoner, kicking the body aside as he moved to the other prisoner who was sobbing and thrashing, “I ended it with her.”

Donovan’s eyes widen, shocked, “Oh, shit. Really? Count me as one surprised motherfucker. Didn’t think I was going to see the day that the great Father Troy was going to call it quits with a lover without this sister interfering!”

A startled, gargled scream alerted Donovan of Troy’s mood, the prisoner throwing up blood as Troy dug with his human hand into the prisoner’s abdomen, tearing into the guts. With his jaws popped open, the tall Calypso bit down on the prisoner’s chest, pulling the flesh out, gorging it. Donovan shook his head, laughing.

“You poor fucker, let me guess, Helen didn’t take it too well,” Donovan said, starting to clean his pistol, “You better watch out though, she might retaliate…not at you, but towards the plaything…” He held a small smirk.

The prisoner’s decapitated head rolled towards Donovan, staring at him with eyes full of horror. The general looked up, blinking. Troy was staring at him, blood dripping from the Calypso’s jaws as he locked them back in place. 

“I told her about Tyreen’s threat,” Troy muttered, low. He stared at his mechanical arm, clenching his fist.

“And that was?” Donovan asked, curious. Tyreen had a way with threats unlike Troy who merely executed anyone on the spot.

Troy snorted, then let out a low growl, “Tyreen said that if Helen so laid a finger on her plaything that she wasn’t going to be merciful as she was with the…. others…” Troy looked at the twitching body of the prisoner. Donovan had met and seen Troy’s previous lovers, all of them dismissed by Tyreen. 

“Huh, Helen already did that no? I saw the feed before the raid….” Donovan looked at Troy, “before it was deleted….”

Troy kept quiet, digging his human hand back into the flesh of the headless prisoner. He was the one who deleted it. During a quick surveillance check, he spotted Helen trailing behind a drunk you, ceremonial dagger out. Troy was surprised that you were able to put up a fight in your inebriated state. 

/Can you kiss it well?/ He was on edge when he licked your blood from the cut inflicted by Helen. He wanted more. 

“Helen isn’t the type to sit idle. I know that. Tyreen knows that. You know that as well…” Donovan trailed off, kicking the head of the prisoner off, “Someone’s head is bound to roll.”

It was the undeniable truth, Troy thought.

\-----0000000------

After bidding goodnight to Perseus and the mechanics, you headed back to your hut, slightly hoping to get ambushed to relieve some stress. Unfortunately, for once when you didn’t need it, you had some luck, everyone steered clear from you. The last arena fight finally scared the cultists. They loved the bloodshed, but not near them, the embodiment of it walking by. 

As you passed by the main cathedral, you paused, feeling eyes on you. Glancing up, you locked gaze with Helen who was looking down at you from the second floor. You noticed her eyes were puffy and red. Had she been crying? You stared at her for a while before resuming your walk, not wanting to get involved in bigger messes. Whatever deal she had going on, it wasn’t your problem. 

You hadn’t spoken to her since the little talk in the confessional booth. You were also surprised she wasn’t clinging to Troy after the fight, probably got shooed off by Tyreen. Then there was your other problem: Tyreen, who had been avoiding you. Her little visits to your hut stopped.

/I hate you… You’re a monster… A Siren monster…/

Yeah, you recalled telling her that. And you stood by those words, even as you saw something snap in Tyreen. Your feelings were still hardened from the day you were captured and made her plaything. A Siren monster’s plaything. 

You growled, tasting blood from your busted lip. In your anger, you had bit down hard on it. 

“Fuck her…” you muttered, reaching your hut. 

\-------00000000-------

You have (2) message in your inbox.

Open? (Yes/No)

(Yes)

[IMAGE 1: A photo of Troy being held by Tyreen is shown, his back is seen busted open, blood everywhere.]

[IMAGE 2: A photo of you looking out a balcony is shown, the background shows a cityscape. You are smiling and a breeze is picking up your hair.] 

! INCOMING MESSAGE !

Unknown User: Hello Father Troy. :v

Unknown User: Couldn’t help but notice you staring at her. :3

Unknown User: Figured I shared this with you. The second photo that is. :D

Unknown User: Beautiful, isn’t she? So many women to pick from and you went with her!

Unknown User: What does the pretty lady next to you in the Let’s Flay think about that?

Unknown User: I mean, I don’t blame you. :3 (heart emoji) We share the same tastes it seems. 

Unknown User: Women that can be unhinged but lovely. Pure and feral. An equal balance. :3c

Unknown User: I envy you. You are so close to her right now. Eventually, she’ll come back to me. 

Unknown User: A King always needs his Queen (crown emoji) (heart emoji)

YOU CAN NO LONGER SEND MESSAGES TO THIS USER

Unknown User: :D I’ll bother you later, Father Troy. (dagger emoji)

\----------000000000000----------

Troy eyed the large pile of bodies from the ‘Naughty House’ that were being taken away by the armed cultists. Crushed in his mechanical arm was his EchoNet device, sparks flying around. The Unknown User’s last message was displayed in the cracked screen.

/A King always needs his Queen./

Furious, Troy threw the broken device across the execution grounds. It was pissing him off how this ‘Master’ individual was able to bypass security features and find him and Tyreen, taunting them with messages. During the Let’s Flay arena fight, the chat and personal messages kept going off on their devices. 

“This fucking bastard… can’t wait to find him and beat the shit out of him…” Troy muttered, kicking a body away from him. 

/Couldn’t help but notice you staring at her./

Was Troy that obvious on the LiveScream? He growled, rubbing his face. He couldn’t demand for the surveyors to stay away from the seating area, it would give away that the ‘Master’s’ messages are getting to him. He didn’t want to give the bastard the satisfaction. 

/I envy you. You are so close to her right now. Eventually, she’ll come back to me./

His blood boiled in anger. The thought of you leaving got him agitated. Before, it was only playful banter with you on how you’d escape back at the cliff, but after knowing you threw yourself out of a moving vehicle, it got him nervous. His only solace was that you didn’t want to ‘return’ to whatever place the mutated man wanted to take you. 

/What does the pretty lady next to you in the Let’s Flay think about that?/

Helen. He had cut ties with her and Troy dearly hoped she wouldn’t do anything towards you. He didn’t want to find out what would have been the outcome had he not interfere with Helen’s plan when you were drunk. He already threatened Donovan if he told anything about the footage to Tyreen.

This was becoming a big mess, Troy thought. A big fucking mess. 

And everything was spiraling out of control. 

\-----00000-----

A new day dawned in the CoV hub, many of the cultists unaware of the turmoil and drama their Twin Gods were experiencing. They went about their normal routine, attending the sermons, working on their assignments, and praising the Calypsos. Mouthpiece announced the daily news and events going on in the hub and the upcoming raids. 

Helen watched the mingling cultists from the main cathedral’s second floor balcony, feeling numb. Sighing, she went inside her study area, sitting on a velvet chair. She twirled her ceremonial dagger in her hand, staring ahead. Jackal was sitting ways away, looking at surveillance feed. 

“I hope you are not planning anything. You heard Troy,” Jackal said, glancing at Helen from the monitor. Helen tsked, throwing her dagger to the floor.

“I am well aware of the warning. If only you kept your mouth shut…” Helen leaned back on her chair, growling. 

“If only YOU kept your jealousy in check,” Jackal countered, “You got bold trying to mess with the God Queen’s plaything, of all people!” The priest rubbed his neck, nervous. Tyreen staring down at him from her throne almost caused a breakdown on the old fool. 

Helen grabbed her head, growling more, “Damnit… I just thought…”

“Just be glad you kept your head,” Jackal went back to watching the surveillance feed, “If our God Queen had found out about the footage Troy deleted…”

Helen knew. Troy knew. Tyreen would have killed her, no questions asked. Even if Tyreen and you were at odds, the God Queen did not like people touching her belongings. Helen was familiar with it with Tyreen’s previous playthings. 

“See this as a blessing… a second chance…” Jackal pleaded, “Honor your vows, give your flesh, for Troy’s sake. As long as you behave, you can still be close to him.” Helen sighed, not wanting to admit the truth in Jackal’s words. Being a high priestess meant access to Troy and Tyreen, helping them out in the LiveScreams and sacrifices. However, no amount of interference from Troy will save her if she stepped out of line again. 

“I don’t know if I will be able to stand seeing him with the plaything,” Helen picked up her dagger, stabbing a table nearby, “Tyreen doesn’t seem too keen in letting him have his way.”

“Its different between the two of you. You’re a high priestess with more freedoms while she’s trapped as a plaything,” Jackal brought up a still image of you, “At least offer her a little sympathy…”

Sympathy? 

/I told you, I don’t like him. You can keep him./

Helen chuckled at your comment. She had told you it didn’t matter what you thought. Troy gets what he wants, no matter what. She played difficult to get before she ended up in Troy’s bed and then became his lover. Now she was casted away, making room for another one. 

“I suppose I pity her…” Helen whispered, “I do have some freedom and she doesn’t. She’ll be at the whim of Tyreen and it won’t be long before the God Queen relents to Troy’s wishes…” 

Then when they are through with you, you’d be discarded if you had any luck left.

Helen pressed a button by the night stand where her dagger was embedded, someone answering on the other side, “I need to deliver a message.”

“What are you going to do?” Jackal asked.

“Have a talk with the plaything, set things straight…” Helen whispered, hoping you’d heed her warnings. 

From behind Helen laid a portrait of Troy and Tyreen, the God Queen’s eyes slightly shifting back to normal. Donovan, on the other side of the wall, nodded his head while smirking. The general had gotten fed up with the Calypsos’ drama with you and Helen, believing it was making the twins weak. This twist in events gave him an idea. A demented idea.

He couldn’t get near you due to Troy and Tyreen, but Helen was another case. The priestess was well known for her physical confrontations and outbursts.

Satisfied with this information, he overheard Helen relaying a message with another priest. He peeked again to see the priest in charge of delivering her request. He gave her credit for not using Jackal since he was the main messenger for the Calypsos with you. The general ventured out, waiting, patient. 

It wasn’t long before the messenger priest neared the housing complex you lived in. The general was enjoying this. 

Gauging the perfect moment, Donovan stepped out from a shop, smirking, “Where do you think you’re going?”

The priest froze, shaking, “P-Prophet Donovan!”

\----00000000---

Whistling, you flipped the magazine to its side, watching as a spread unfolded, revealing more content. A blush appeared on your cheeks as you giggled, unaware of your brother’s entrance to the workshop.

“Hey, Shorty McShortyface, I brought some new parts- What is that?!” Hephaestus rushed over to you, mouth agape. You turned around, blinking, “Oh, this? Me and the boys found it and others by the trash bins, Cassie tossed them out. She looked pissed off.” 

You casually showed your brother the magazine cover. A scantily clad woman laid across a field of flowers, the bold words “PLAYTHING” was floating above her. Flipping back to the spread, you pointed at the nude woman.

“How are they that big? Doesn’t that make her back hurt?” you innocently asked, gazing at the spread. Hephaestus snatched the dirty magazine from your hands, face red.

“Y-You are too young for these magazines! Where are the rest of them?!” Hephaestus was fidgety, rolling up the magazine, smacking you on the head. You yelped, rubbing your head. 

“The boys have them! That’s the only one I grabbed!” you pleaded, squealing and running around the workshop as your brother chased you around, trying to smack you again. 

“I can’t believe my baby sister was looking at dirty magazines! I thought I raised you well!” Hephaestus shouted, partly amused but scared of Cassie finding out. Cepheus was probably crying over the loss of his porn stash.

“Says the one who keeps using foul language around me!” you giggled, hiding under a workbench, “Can’t catch me under here!” Hephaestus reached under, grabbing you. Kicking around, you laughed as he gently ‘smacked’ you on the head with the magazine. 

“You are going to be the reason I get grey hair at my young age,” your brother said, grinning. You stuck your tongue out, laughing more. 

\---00000-----

You glanced through the dirty magazine, eyeing the content, slightly amused. The warehouse mechanics had some weird tastes when it came to women and men. Skimming through it, you let out a tiny giggle, recalling your brother freaking out when he caught you looking through a similar magazine as a kid. 

“Oh, Hepha… So many heart attacks I gave you…” you whispered, a small smile on your face. To think that a dirty magazine would bring up a fond memory of your brother, quite an odd moment. Chuckling, you got up from your bed, stashing the magazine into your dresser. 

A knock was heard from the main door causing you to jump. You hadn’t had any visits from Jackal. Curious, you approached the door, opening it a bit. A priest you’ve never seen before was standing there, bowing.

“Greetings, High Priestess Helen would like to have a word with you…” the priest said, glancing away. You narrowed your eyes, “I highly doubt that.” She wanted you dead.

The priest fidgeted in his spot, “She says it’s of urgent matter. If you are interested, meet her inside the confessional booth in the main cathedral…” He bowed again and quickly left. You were dumbfounded by his reaction but remembered what Troy said you did to some of his buddies at the arena. 

Sighing, you closed the door, debating whether to go. Helen was a ticking time-bomb, ready to strike. But so were you. Putting on your boots, you made up your mind, exiting your hut. If she tried anything, you were ready to fight it out.

The main cathedral had few psychos lingering, ranting their usual praises for the Calypsos. Rolling your eyes, you headed towards the confessional booth, entering. You gently tapped the screen window, signaling your arrival.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Well, I had nothing better to do other than look at a dirty magazine,” you snorted, hearing Helen let out a tiny gasp, “It was a gift, I confess that.”

“…I learned something new from you, plaything,” Helen chuckled. 

You leaned back against the booth’s wall, “So, what’s the occasion? I swear, if it’s another Troy rant-“

“He broke up with me.” 

You blinked, eyeing the screen window separating the booths.

“Did he now…” you said, low, “You have my deepest condolences…?” You weren’t great at comforting people. Helen let out a small laugh that sounded like a sob.

“It’s obvious what he is going to do,” the priestess shuffled a bit in her spot, hugging herself, “He’s going to pursue you and it doesn’t matter if you are Tyreen’s plaything.”

Troy had already kissed you after the arena fight. You made no comment about it, believing he was only being his teasing self and trying to get a reaction out of you. You and Troy left it at that before he dismissed you.

“And I already told you I don’t like him or Tyreen,” you hissed out, getting irritated. You were fed up being dragged in their dramas.

“And like I said before, it doesn’t matter what you think. I’m warning you to watch your back more than ever,” Helen advised, frustrated, “and I’m not saying this because of me… but from other playthings that came before you.”

“Before me?” you asked, curious. You hadn’t bother to ask about the previous playthings of the twins, other than knowing Troy killing them for shits and giggles and pissing off Tyreen. 

“You are not the first one Troy has gone after, smitten and played with,” Helen sighed, “Those playthings genuinely thought it was permanent before you know…”

Killed.

“He got a thrill out of their behavior, the playthings worshipping him got him off…” 

“You don’t say…” you muttered, looking at your hands, eyeing the small healing cuts you got from the arena fights, “Did you warn the other playthings?”

“If they were alive for long, yes. I was in charge of disposing their bodies once the twins were through with them, if they didn’t die in the arena that is.”

“Their last rites, huh…” you said, sighing. 

“Fools, all of them… myself included… Loving the twins… Loving Troy…” Helen whispered, taking a deep breath, “….Ever been in love?” The last words came out weak, shaky.

“Yeah,” you blurted out. You felt your heart skip a beat. The little monster in the back of your mind was laughing and taunting. It was a sensitive topic you never to spoke to anyone. The nightmares resurfacing also brought up the memories of the man you had fallen in love with. 

“Ever experienced a heartbreak?”

“Yeah…” you said, frowning. It was a crushing one.

“This is my first heartbreak…” She sounded destroyed.

“It stings like a bitch… you feel your heart being crushed over and over again… A wave of numbness just takes over your body… you don’t feel anything before it hits you out of nowhere… the sudden slap of reality… the truth being hard to swallow…” you ranted, breathing heavily, a tear escaping. You quickly wiped it away. 

“….Did you recover…?”

You shook your head, trying to keep calm, “No… even till this day… I’m still trying to move on… to heal….Thanks for bringing this painful shit up.” Part of you wanted to feel his affection again. The other part scolded you for having lingering feelings. Your body felt disgust whenever the twins were showing you physical affection. Your mind spewed feelings of betrayal for letting others touch you. 

“May I ask what was the cause?” Helen asked, genuine concern.

“I saw that person for what he truly was… a horrible, vile person…” you whispered, wiping another tear away, “I thought I could change him…. but I was only lying to myself…”

“Don’t we all…” Helen added, “I thought I could change Troy….”

“What did you see in him?” you asked, looking at the screen window. You could barely see her, she was glancing at the floor.

“He and I met each other a long time ago through Jackal… The priest was the one who introduced me to the Children of the Vault. I devoted myself to Troy and Tyreen, worshipping them… becoming their executioner against anyone who fell out of line, who fell out of grace. Troy liked my bloodlust, that’s how I caught his attention… the way I would kill the cult’s enemies… perform sacrifices, got him riled up,” Helen replied, “He was the one who pursued me, giving me bits and bits of his attention. Then he would give me gifts, the ceremonial daggers I have were custom made with his snake sigil. Before I knew it, I was hooked with his pretty words… I felt special.” 

A familiar scenario with you. After your debut fight, he would announce how turned on he was watching you kill other playthings, pester you for some alley action by the warehouse, and engaging in bantering you. However, you never fell for it. 

“I played hard to get, but that didn’t last long,” the priestess continued, “I thought I was the only one that would get to see him be his true self behind closed doors, away from the gaze of fanatics. He was gentle with me, calmer, not the brash, feral version everyone saw in the streets, in the raids, or LivesScreams…I fell more in love with him when I got to witness that…” You sighed, rubbing your face. This was getting too heavy for you to process.

“What did you see in yours?”

“He saved me from peril. I was not… in a good place when I was a teenager, I suppose I saw him as my savior… I felt safe with him. I fully devoted to him, wanting to make sure I’d satisfy him in any way possible as payment for saving my life. He showed me kindness, something we can’t afford in the wastes and as a bandit, you know? He was gentle… charismatic… He became my world…” you trailed off. Complete opposite of Tyreen. The God Queen herself had grown impatient with you, lashing out at times whenever you weren’t ‘obedient.’ Your ex-lover, whenever you were in trouble or messed up, wouldn’t scold you, instead, he’d help you recover from your mistakes. 

“Do you miss him?”

The question always haunted you. As much as you hated the man, you missed him. The yearning was present, constantly squashed by the little monster in your head. With everything you had gone through and your current state, you wanted to run to his arms, for him to tell you it was going to be okay.

But you weren’t safe with him. 

“…I do,” you admitted, “Sometimes I really wish I was with him… but the majority of the time I’m relieved I’m away from him…”

“There’s always a catch, huh…” Helen whispered, you hummed in agreement.

“What about Tyreen, why doesn’t she like you?” you asked. Troy and Tyreen were always bumping heads about the priestess.

“I guess she got used to playthings and bedwarmers leaving at the snap of her fingers… I managed to last this long,” she quipped, “She only liked me at arm’s length, serving my purpose as a priestess and not as her brother’s ‘bedwarmer’ as she puts it.” 

“So, what will happen to you now?” you inquired. You never met any other ‘lovers’ of Troy aside from Helen or anyone else from Tyreen. 

“If I behave, I live another day… watching Troy go after someone he can’t have for now,” Helen replied, “And see that someone either suffer or give in.” She was very blunt about it.

You snorted, “Thanks for the encouragement.” 

“This stays between us, alright? It’s up to you if you want to heed all of this,” Helen said, “You’re a plaything….”

Waiting to be discarded or killed, your mind finished for her.

“No freedom given.”

Only in death.

\-----00000------

Donovan held back a laugh as he watched the surveillance feed from the cathedral, watching as you entered through the huge doors. He was surprised you answered Helen’s call to meet up, considering the high priestess intensely disliked you. Helen and you were making this too easy for him. He eyed his EchoNet device, a small ping alerting him of a message.

.:Tyreen: You wanted to show me something?

.:D.Van: Yes, I believe its of utmost importance. 

.:Tyreen: Fine, I’m almost there. Surveillance room #3?

.:D.Van: Yes. 

The general heard footsteps approaching the door, Tyreen walking in. She looked exhausted, agitated.

“What did you want to show me?” Tyreen asked, approaching Donovan. The general pointed at the screen, replaying the feed. Tyreen blinked, watching as you entered the cathedral and make your way into the confessional booth. 

“Okay? What about my plaything?” the white-haired Calypso glanced at Donovan. He gestured for her to keep watching.

You were in the confessional booth for a while before stepping out and leaving the cathedral. Time passed and Helen stepped out from the other part of the booth. Tyreen’s eyes widen. 

“When was this?” Tyreen asked, angry. She clenched her fists.

“A few minutes ago,” Donovan replied, refraining from smiling.

Tyreen didn’t answer him as she barged out from the room. The general smirked, satisfied. Let the God Queen do his work. 

\-----000000-------

Troy was lounging in the main living room area of the Calypsos’ living quarters when Tyreen stormed in, startling the man. He looked at her, confused.

“What’s wrong, Ty?” he asked, sitting up from the couch. Tyreen stopped a few feet away from him, growling.

“Just because you and Helen are no longer together does not mean she can get near my plaything!” Tyreen shouted, “I saw the footage-“

“WHAT!?” Troy yelled back, caught off guard, “HOW?! I DELETED IT!” He got up, eyes wide. Tyreen stared at him, baffled.

“Deleted it…? What..?!” Tyreen inched closer, “What deleted footage?” Troy realized his error, gasping. 

“What footage did you see…?” Troy asked, looking down at Tyreen who was seething.

“Answer my question Troy! What deleted footage?!” Tyreen was breathing heavily, “I saw footage of my plaything and Helen at the cathedral! What did you do Troy…”

Troy gulped, a bit unease. Tyreen’s volatile behavior was alarming him.

“Ty… Just take a deep breath…. Relax…” Troy cautiously approached her, “Remember to keep calm…” He was in charge of keeping her in check. She kept the godly queen persona out in public but away from everyone’s eyes she was slipping. The last raid and the fact she was unable to use her powers had created a mental crisis for her.

“SHUT UP!” Tyreen shouted, “Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down! That little whore of yours has been a fucking headache since the beginning!” Troy inhaled, trying to keep himself calm as well. 

“She’s not going to do anything… Tyreen…. Please…. Stop this…” Troy pleaded, slightly clenching his fists, “Please sis…” 

“You didn’t answer my question, Troy. What deleted footage…” Tyreen voice went low, “I’ll find out some way or another… Or maybe I should ask Helen herself.”

Troy panicked. The outcome was going to be bad either way. He wanted to delay it. Everything was crumbling around him. He bit his lip, trying to contain his anger.

Troy took a deep breath, preparing himself, “Before the raid at the Atlas stronghold… Helen stalked the mechanic on the way to her hut later at night…” He looked away, “Helen fought her… I stopped it before it escalated…” The last part was rushed. 

“That’s why my plaything had your jacket…” Tyreen stated, nodding, “I don’t know if I should be fucking pissed at you for keeping this away from me…” She growled, “Or the fact you keep covering for Helen…”

“Tyreen-“

“Everyone has been getting too comfortable around me it seems,” the white-haired Calypso glared at her brother, “Too fucking comfortable, I have to remind everyone who is the one in charge here! Making a mockery out of me!” Her Siren tattoos were glowing brightly.

“W-What are you going to do!?” Troy asked, walking towards her, “Just stop!”

“Even after cutting ties with Helen, you are still clinging on to her!” Tyreen spat back, “I need to remind Helen of her rightful place…” She smacked Troy’s hand when he tried reaching out to her, “Don’t let me remind you of your own place, brother!” She pushed past him, leaving the room. 

Troy looked back at her retreating form, afraid for once. A ping was heard from his new EchoNet device. The tall Calypso glanced at it, agitated.

.:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED 

.:Unknown User: I’m stoked to see what the God Queen has in store for your lady friend. Better clean up that mess she left outside your place. :3

Troy ran outside the living room area, eyeing the dried-up corpses of several priests in the hallway.

The bastard has access to the Children of the Vault’s surveillance cameras.

\--------0000000--------

Surveillance Camera #6

Camera pans across the main square of the CoV stronghold, cultists are seen going about their business, chatting and mingling. The camera focuses on a certain area by the Calypsos’ statues. 

You are sitting at the edge of the fountain, staring ahead. Someone approaches you, tapping gently at your shoulder. You jump slightly, looking up but relax when you notice who it is. Perseus fist bumps you and sits next to you. While talking to him, your posture and behavior changes. You’re smiling and laughing at something Perseus said.

The camera lingers on you before zooming out.

Surveillance Camera #10

The feed shows the main cathedral, the priests are in the middle of a sermon when Tyreen and armed cultists barge in, causing everyone to scramble. No audio is heard but its obvious Tyreen is shouting. The priests look around, frantic. 

Jackal emerges from the side of the screen, bowing at Tyreen. She approaches him and grabs him by the collar, shaking him. He is nervous and yelps when she throws him down, disappearing into the side alongside the armed cultists.

Surveillance Camera #11

Camera shows Troy running towards the cathedral, pushing cultists away. He looks nervous. He passes by the fountain area, you zone in on him.

Surveillance Camera #6

You tense up when you see Troy running a few feet away from the fountain area. Perseus notices this, makes a comment about it. Troy doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings.

Surveillance Camera #15

Armed cultists rush up the stairwell ahead of Tyreen. She’s going up, pushing priests out of the way. One of them ends up falling through to the main floor. She disappears from sight. At the bottom of the screen, Jackal lets Troy through, he’s frantic. Troy quickly goes up the stairwell.

Surveillance Camera #16

The camera pans to the third floor of the cathedral, armed cultists have Helen. She’s on her knees, an armed cultist grabbing her arms behind her. Tyreen shows up. Camera pans on her face, she’s angry. She is yelling at Helen, the camera pans out to view everything. Helen is pleading. Tyreen slaps her, turns to face the main door when Troy barges in.

Tyreen points at him, her face out of view. Troy shouts at her, gesturing at the camera and showing her the EchoNet device. They argue for a while before Tyreen turns to face the camera, eyes wide. She growls, takes out a gun and shoots the camera.

Surveillance Camera #9

You’re walking back to your hut when someone sneaks up behind you. Walking still, a smirk is seen on your face as you take out your hands from your pockets, shiny brass knuckles adorning them. In a swift move, you turn around, punching the assailant as three others show up. 

They stumble back, falling to the ground as you flick your hand in pain, blood dripping. The other three assailants lunge towards you. Laughing, you punch them, dodging their attacks and making quick work of them. 

The camera watches your every movement as you pummel into your assailants’ faces with the spiked brass knuckles, cackling and covered in blood. After delivering one final blow to an assailant, you throw the body away, standing up. You stare off in the distance, a blank expression on your face. 

Then you look up at the camera, grinning.

\-------000000--------

“How is this fucker able to access our cameras?!” Troy slammed his fists on the console as Basil and Moksha were going through their security settings and firmware. 

“We are always checking the status of our security!” Moksha yelled, bringing up the different screens, “Nothing in our firewall picked up any breaches!”

“Shit, and are you sure that asshole is watching?” Basil asked, glancing at the angry Calypso. Troy growled, throwing the EchoNet device close to Basil. 

“Fucker sent me a message… They watched Tyreen kill some priests…” Troy growled, rubbing his face, frustrated. Tyreen was on the other side of the room, looking at her EchoNet device, gripping it tightly.

The deleted footage from Helen stalking you was playing with a little caption on it.

.:Unknown User: I was enjoying this until Father Troy interfered. Wanted to see her shred up his lady friend. ;)

She watched as Helen landed several hits on you. Even in your drunken state, you kept your guard up, fighting back. Something caused you and Helen to cover your ears, the priestess running away. Troy appeared from the side. She was unable to make out what you were telling him as he picked you up. Gesturing at your arm, Troy licked a cut and you brought your dagger up. The Calypso laughed, shaking his head as he walked away with you in his arms, glancing at the blood trail Helen left behind.

Tyreen threw her EchoNet device on the floor, tired. She pulled at her hair, screaming. Troy rushed over to her, grabbing her arms. Moksha and Basil kept working, shooting worried looks at the twins.

“Ty, keep it together… You’re letting this fucker get to you…!” Troy pleaded, hugging Tyreen, “We’ll get through this…”

“We need to find this asshole… I need to kill them, Troy…” Tyreen muttered, shaking a bit, “Why won’t she tell us anything…?” She wanted to yell at you. She wanted to scream and shout at you. She wanted answers. 

“I-I don’t know…” Troy answered, still hugging Tyreen, “But we can’t take it out on her, Ty… It doesn’t work that way…” He wanted to avoid another incident. If the ‘Master’ had been watching them since Cepheus was killed, there was no telling what this individual was capable of if harm befell you. It was obvious this individual held a big obsession over you. He shuddered at the thought of the mutated man. 

/A King always needs his Queen…/

This individual had shown they had the means to bypass the strict security features of the cult. Troy had created the system and tested it out numerous times before bringing it online. He highly doubted any of their followers, some that help them maintain the system, would sellout to someone. Others would have noticed and alerted Troy. 

“W-We need to bring her in… she needs to answer our questions…” Tyreen was breathing heavily, trying to keep calm. Troy shook his head, “Not in your current state, Ty.”

“B-But Troy…” his sister begged, “W-What if that asshole sends one of those things…? I won’t be able to stop it…My powers wouldn’t work..” Troy didn’t respond, only held her tight as Tyreen sobbed. He needs to keep her in check. 

\------000000-------

You have (1) message in your inbox.

Open? (Yes/No)

(Yes)

[A still image from the surveillance feed shows Donovan holding the priest up against the wall, angry.]

! INCOMING MESSAGE !

Unknown User: Greetings. Couldn’t help but notice you being naughty. ;)

Unknown User: [USER SENT IMAGE]

[Another still image shows Donovan instructing, meeting with several cultists, some that had attacked you before.]

Unknown User: You gave me some entertaining sessions. She needs exercise. I must thank you for that. 

D.Van.: What do you want.

Unknown User: Oh, no need to be aggressive. :D I’m a friend. 

D.Van.: You wouldn’t be sending me shit if it didn’t benefit you. You already have the Calypsos on edge.

Unknown User: :D 

Unknown User: How about helping a friend out? You scratch my back and I scratch yours. You really don’t like my Queen being near the Calypsos. :3c I want her back. Seems like a fair trade, right?

D.Van.: As if I would.

Unknown User: I don’t think Father Troy would like to know you were the one who snitched on his lady friend. :3

D.Van.: What do you propose, then?

Unknown User: That’s what I want to hear. I’ll help you out. When the perfect opportunity shows up, you find a way to free her from the stronghold. :3

D.Van.: Huh, you want me to do your dirty work. Asshole.

Unknown User: D: I mean, do you want me to storm the place. :3 I can do that, but I won’t. 

Unknown User: :v I doubt you want another surprise like the one in the underground freezer.  
What can I do to show a sign of good faith? :3c

D.Van.: Now that’s what I want to hear.

\-------0000000-------

Jackal was rubbing Helen’s back as she sobbed. The priestess was shaken from the encounter with Tyreen, believing she was going to get killed. Her cheek was slightly red from the slap the God Queen gave her. 

“How did she find out…?” Helen muttered, “I didn’t do anything to her plaything…”

“I-I’m not sure either… Do you think the plaything told her…?” Jackal added. It was too much of a coincidence that all of a sudden Tyreen got word of your interaction with Helen. As far as the priests knew, you disliked the God Queen. Jackal, being the messenger, had not received any messages to deliver to you. 

“Probably from the surveillance,” Helen said, wiping more tears away, “Someone must have been watching then. Tyreen shot the camera in the third floor.”

“The God Queen looked out of it… I’ve never seen her that angry, same with Troy,” Jackal offered Helen some warm tea, the priestess taking it. 

“Good to see you are in one piece.”

Jackal and Helen looked up at the door from their study. Donovan was standing there, smiling. The priestess hissed.

“What do you want?” she spat out, getting up. 

“No need to get angry, Troy sent me to check up on you since Tyreen doesn’t want him near you,” Donovan said. It was a lie. But he was gambling on Helen’s feelings for the Twin God. No better moment to strike that at her most vulnerable. She glanced at him, curious.

“He did…?” her expression softened, but she turned away, “I’m fine. You can leave.” Jackal eyed Donovan, nervous. He never liked the general, finding him a lot more brutish than Troy.

Donovan gave her a curt nod, “As you wish, but if I may…. Most curious that the plaything went straight to Tyreen after leaving the cathedral… I thought her and the God Queen weren’t in friendly terms…”

“What are you talking about?” Helen glared at him. Donovan threw his EchoNet device at the priestess who caught it. She played the feed.

“Me and Basil were sifting through the feed after Tyreen destroyed the camera in the cathedral, happened upon that,” Donovan said, holding back a smirk. He watched as Helen’s eyes widen. 

You were shown exiting the cathedral, agitated. Then, you glanced at the doors before departing, making your way to the main living quarters of the Calypsos. A priest ushered you in. The camera switches to another angle, you are in the main hallway. Tyreen shows up, her back facing the camera. You glare at her, talk about something before she dashes out. You stand in the hallway; your attention turns to something out view. Troy is seen running out of the main living room. He speaks to you, but you are glaring at him, talking to him, pointing a finger at him. He quickly leaves as you calmly walk out of view, anger present in your face.

Helen handed the device back at Donovan, quiet. Jackal shook his head, “T-That’s not possible…” 

Donovan shrugged, “It is what it is, I don’t know what you two talked about but the plaything seemed upset. What did you say to piss her off?” He was enjoying this way too much. 

/Thanks for bringing this painful shit up…/ Your heartbreak. You were angry talking about it to her. You sounded resentful, but Helen thought it was directed at the person you were talking about, not at her.

“I try to help her out and she did this to me…” Helen muttered, taking a deep breath. 

“Helen?” Jackal asked, worried as she went to grab her ceremonial dagger. She threw the cup of tea down, shoving past Donovan.

“Helen!” Jackal shouted, running after her. 

Donovan chuckled once they were earshot, looking down at his EchoNet device. A message pinged through.

.:Unknown User: :3 So, how were my editing skills?

.:D.Van: I’m impressed. Now, do your part.

.:Unknown User: :D Sure thing! :3c Can’t wait to see what you have in store for me.

\-----0000000-----

Troy was still in the surveillance room, glaring at the screens. Tyreen was long gone, being shooed away by him to rest, or at least try to rest. The white-haired Calypso was on the verge of killing anyone on sight and Troy couldn’t have any more incidents occurring. Basil and Moksha were still conducting system tune-ups and adjusting the security features. A ping came through on Troy’s EchoNet device.

Troy growled, seeing the generic grey icon. Even with a new device, the ‘Master’ was still able to send messages.

.:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED 

.:Unknown User: :3 Hello, Father Troy. Good luck trying to fix your security features.

.:Unknown User: :v Won’t be sending pictures right now, I’m having a jolly good time.

.:Unknown User: But it seems your lady friend is up to something. ;3 Check camera #19.

.:Unknown User: Its in public. My Queen does get messy when cornered. :D Hurry up!

“Basil! Moksha! Bring up Camera #19!” Troy shouted, getting up. The generals did as told, displaying the feed from the camera. Helen was walking towards the bar, Jackal behind her, grabbing her arm but she shoved him away. Troy recognized some of the mechanics that worked in the same warehouse as you. 

“Damnit! Have armed cultists meet me there!” Troy ordered, rushing off, “Fucking shit, fucking shit!” 

\-----000000-------

After a long day at the warehouse, your fellow mechanics dragged you out to the bar, insisting you needed to relax. You were reluctant, but free booze was a good deal. Free booze from other individuals other than being served for being the plaything of the God Queen tasted better. 

Now you were holding back from smacking some of them with the pool stick, Perseus beating you at pool. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t keep your hand steady, recovering from the work-in-progress spiked brass knuckles. You and Perseus were interrupted by the emergency raid while fixing the items.

“You didn’t adjust the spring mechanism well, you tool,” you whispered, adjusting the pool stick on your knuckles, aiming low, “I’m surprised it didn’t bust my fingers off.”

Perseus laughed, waiting on the side of the pool table, “You tightened the bolts, plus you were punching assailants left and right, you busted it! We’ll tune it up later.” He patted the leather bag near you.

You hit the cue ball, your ball missing the pocket. Perseus began aiming, missing sinking a ball. At your turn, you aimed, hitting too hard the cue ball, causing it to bounce off the pool table, hitting a shelf of bottles at the bar.

The bartender gave you a defeated look. 

“Sorry…?”

“Heh, are you okay?” Perseus asked.

“Define okay.” You had Helen’s conversation in your head. Bringing up the sour heartbreak story had stirred up some feelings in you. You felt slightly pity for the priestess.

“Alright, you got me there,” Perseus conceded, returning to the game of pool. You mingled with the mechanics, enjoying the atmosphere. Although the majority of them came from shady backgrounds and were devoted to the Calypsos, they held an aloof air on them. You rather spend time with them than the Calypsos and the priests. 

Taking a quick break to take a drink, you busied yourself to aim again at the edge of the pool table, only to be caught off guard by someone screaming and screeching outside the bar. Everyone turned to look at the entrance as Helen barged in, dagger in hand as she zoned in on you.

“I trusted you!” Helen screamed, lunging forward.

Some of the mechanics tried to stop her, only to dodge her dagger. She pushed away at other bar patrons, throwing aside tables and chairs. You swung the pool stick once she got close, throwing her off balance. 

“FIGHT! FIGHT!”

You cursed, making a mental note to beat up some of the drunkards. Perseus pushed over the pool table, hiding behind it with other mechanics. 

Helen jabbed at your leg, managing to land a hit. You placed a hand on your wound, glaring at her. Dagger in hand and pool stick in another, you thrusted forward the stick, using the weapon to aim at her hands raised up in defense. 

“I tried helping you!” Helen yelled, aiming for a low blow with her own dagger. You dodged, grabbing a chair and shielding yourself from a follow-up attack. 

“The hell are you on about?!” You hollered out. You tackled her down, ignoring the pain in your leg as she nicked your face. Stumbling back, you covered your cheek, inspecting the blood on your palm. She was good with her weapon.

The bar patrons moved around, hiding behind the bar and the discarded tables as you and Helen kept fighting. A group of armed cultists entered the bar, Troy pushing through. 

“ENOUGH!” he yelled, his body tense, towering over everyone.

Everyone froze. Helen was on top of you, her dagger mere inches from your face as you held a tight grip on her arms. Both of you looked at Troy.

“Seizer her, I will not permit anymore disobedience,” Troy ordered, pointing at your direction. 

A pair of armed cultists made their way to you.

“Y-Yes Father Troy! Take her away! Wait- What are you doing?!” Helen struggled against the armed cultists who grabbed her harshly from the arms. You took the opportunity to smack her dagger away from her. There were so much bar fights you could handle. 

Perseus and some of the mechanics rushed towards you, helping you up. Helen screamed, kicked as she was dragged out by the armed cultists, Troy glancing back at you and then walking out. 

“The hell was that…” Perseus whispered, “I’ve never seen her this mad before…”

“Tell me about it…Usually she’ll glare or hiss at me…” you looked at the entrance of the bar, surprised. She was fine when you left the cathedral, this outburst didn’t seem like her. 

You steadied yourself, intent in walking out of the bar. Perseus and the others followed. Being helped by your mechanic friend, you and the others saw the armed cultists surrounding Troy and Helen, who was kneeling before him, bloody and bruised from the bar fight.

“You’ve disobeyed a direct order from me and in extension the God Queen herself,” Troy announced, voice laced with contempt, anger, “You’ve abused our good graces. You will be stripped from your position as High Priestess.”

“N-No! Please! I have served with utmost devotion!” Helen pleaded. She tried grabbing Troy’s arm but he smacked her across the face with his metal hand. You covered your mouth, gasping. Perseus and the others slowly pulled back into the bar, the former pulling you too. 

Troy glanced back at you, directing his message to Helen, “You are nothing now. Get away from my sight!” She yelled and kicked as the armed cultists took her away, blasting curses at you. You briefly locked gaze with Troy before Perseus closed the bar doors. 

Hurt was written in his eyes. 

\--------000000000---------

Sighing in frustration, you rolled over in your bed, facing the wall. The bar fight kept replaying in your head, Helen’s behavior psyching you out. After Troy and the armed cultists left, you bid Perseus and the others goodbye, quickly heading to your hut before any other bullshit decided to descend upon you. Seeing Troy pissed off reminded you of the night you first met Helen in his room. Growling in frustration, you forced yourself back to sleep until a soft knock on the door awoke you. 

Sniffing, you got up, wrapping the blankets around you, limping to the door. The gash on your leg was hurting. You opened the door slightly, seeing Perseus standing there, holding a small leather bag. You eyed the bag. 

The forgotten brass knuckles.

“No hello or anything? I know, surprise!” Perseus did a jazzy hands gesture, “I’m not from this housing complex, but I figured this one visit wouldn’t hurt.”

“You got my bag,” you pointed out, allowing him entrance to your hut, “the bar fight was crazy.”

He hopped in, handing over the bag to you, “No kidding, everyone was scared shitless, Father Troy usually gets his point across with a stare… but that… you know…” He sat down on your couch. You went over the small kitchen, retrieving two pouches of water, offering him one. 

“Ugh, its one mess after another…” you muttered.

“You were surprised too, you never seen him that way… behind closed doors?” Perseus asked, sipping on the water, “O-Oh, don’t answer that. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

You snorted, shaking your head, “Yeah, good thinking.” Perseus chatted about the shenanigans of the mechanics after you had left the bar and the betting pool on your next fight either in the arena or attackers.

“Shoot, I’m gonna have to ask for some earnings on that damn betting,” you muttered, stretching your legs, giving Perseus a glimpse of your bandaged thigh. He stared.

“How do you deal with it?” he wondered out loud, eyes widening, “Oh, I didn’t mean to blurt that out.”

You snickered, “It’s not the worst I’ve had, actually small compared to the other injuries I’ve gotten.”

“When you were a bandit.” Not quite, you thought. Injuries you got as a bandit were extremely tame to what you experienced elsewhere. In the same arena you had shared with Cepheus many years ago.

“Hmm…”

Both of you fell in silence, Perseus tapping the edge of the couch.

“I didn’t mean to bring it up…” Perseus offered. You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it.”

Before Perseus could talk, the door to your hut barged open, Tyreen walking in, but freezing in her tracks at the sight of Perseus. 

“M-My God Queen!” he immediately said, bowing. She looked at both of you. 

“What’s he doing here,” She questioned, staring at you. Her tone wasn’t going to get the best of you.

“He came to drop off my work bag I left at the bar,” you muttered, “which I forgot about because I was attacked.” Perseus remained in his place, afraid.

“He was heading out, right? You have late night work to do at the warehouse, you don’t want the others to hassle you in finishing their service jobs,” you continued, getting up and gently coaxing Perseus around Tyreen and out the door. He mouthed a ‘thank you’ before running off. 

“He’s not allowed in this housing complex,” Tyreen spat back, “He’s not allowed to be near you outside of work!” Jealousy took over. She had to teach you a lesson.

“He was only bringing my bag,” you growled out.

Tyreen roughly grabbed your face, staring deep into your eyes, “You belong to me. I can kill you if I want with a snap of my fingers. Do you understand?” She brought her Siren hand on your cheek, smirking as she watched you flinch at the touch. 

She eyed your bandaged thigh, pinching it. You hissed out in pain, growling. Tyreen frowned, “I came to check up on you since Helen got carried away… You’ll end up like her if you don’t behave…” She grabbed you by the neck, your hands quickly holding on to her arms, growling more.

“Let this serve as a warning to you, you’ve been getting too comfortable…” Tyreen hissed out, then slapped you, “That’s for slapping me in the vehicle.” You took a deep breath, glaring at her, cheek slightly red from the impact. You were met with another slap, hair being pulled back.

“That’s for talking back at me!” Tyreen glared down at you, pulling your hair more, “I know how much you like that dagger… I’ll use it to cut off that tongue of yours if you keep being disobedient…” You didn’t say anything, returning the glare at her. 

Another slap, Tyreen breathing heavily, “And that’s for looking down at me… Thinking you are some hot shit…” You kept quiet, looking away this time around, slightly panting. Tyreen knew you were seething. She admired your ability to not lash out, others would have completely lost it. Admirable, but it was annoying her. 

Tyreen delivered another slap, “That’s for Troy… if you had only answered our goddamn questions… he wouldn’t have been close to death…” You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths. Growling, Tyreen dug her nails into your CoV mark, eliciting a low hiss from you as blood oozed out. She smeared the blood across your collarbone, leaning forward to lick it. Without warning, she bit down hard, causing you to struggle against her. 

With her Siren hand, she flashed her tattoos, feeling you tense. This got her excited as she bit down more, drawing more blood, eagerly lapping it up. You were panting more, slightly shaking. She smirked as you stared at her with a bit of fear in your eyes. Tyreen licked her lips, the sides of her cheeks covered in blood. 

“I better not see that stupid mechanic friend of yours near you again…Do I make myself clear?”

Your eyes widen, fear amplified. 

The Siren monster brushed her lips against yours, laughing.

\-------00000-----

General Moksha fetched you for some warehouse work, making no comment about the bandages and slight bruising you had. She knew better than to question it. To question Tyreen’s punishments. Working for a while at the warehouse, Perseus shot you worried looks, tried to approached you but Moksha kept him at bay, shaking her head. 

/I better not see that stupid mechanic friend of yours near you again!/ The warning had been delivered to Perseus. 

Later that night, Troy appeared, requesting a tune-up for his mechanical arm. All eyes fell on you as you got up, following him to his private shop, service jobs done. 

You were quiet as you worked on Troy’s mechanical arm, pulling out the occasional chunk of flesh or broken bone shard from the compartments. The tall Calypso was sitting this time around, exhaustion present on his face. He kept eyeing your bandaged chest and bruise on your cheek.

“Tyreen did that?” Troy stated, sighing.

You kept working, ignoring his question. He reached out with human hand to touch your shoulder causing you to flinch at the touch. Troy narrowed his eyes. 

“She shouldn’t have done that… Taking it out on you…” Troy whispered, his gaze softening, “It wasn’t your fault what happened to me on the last raid.” He mentally cursed at himself for not stopping the priests from telling Tyreen what happened at the bar. By the time he reached their living quarters, she was gone. 

“Why do you care?” you hissed out, glaring at him, “Just be quiet and let me work. The faster I finish this, the less time I get to spend with you the better…” Troy didn’t say anything as he watched you fumble up and throw the tools out to the floor in frustration. 

“I-I can’t work like this!” you grabbed your head, irritated. You threw the metal stool you were sitting on across the room, the stool crashing and causing the tools hanging on the wall to fall down. 

“Sit down,” Troy ordered, pulling another metal stool out from under the work bench near him.

“FUCK YOU!” you yelled, snarling. Was he going to slap you like he did with Helen? The same way as Tyreen always did to you?

“Sit. Down.”

You grabbed the metal stool he offered and threw it on the opposite side, breaking a window in the process. You paced back and forth, grabbing your head, growling and snarling. Troy only observed, pulling out another metal stool, placing it neatly next to him near his mechanical arm. 

“Finish this and you can leave,” Troy said, “You are only dragging this out…” You kicked over a work bench, clenching and unclenching your fists. You could still feel Tyreen’s burning touches on your skin, boiling your insides. Taking deep breaths, you sat back down, resuming your work, hands slightly shaking. Troy would occasionally glance at you when he heard you gritting your teeth. 

After adding the last touches to his arm, the tune-up was complete. You were breathing heavily, hands twitching. While Troy was getting a feel for his mechanical arm by punching a dummy¬ by the wall, you grabbed the metal stool and threw it at him. He caught it, setting it down gently. You glared at him, but was only met with a disappointed look from him.

“You didn’t throw it hard enough,” Troy approached you, “Afraid to hurt my mechanical arm or me?”

You didn’t respond, growling slightly. Huffing, you made your way to the exit of his private shop. You felt Troy grab your arm. You tried pulling away, “Let go…”

Troy leaned forward, face inches away from your own. You expected him to say something, but he only stared before releasing you from his grip, walking back to the workbench and picking up the tools and items you had thrown around. You eyed the broken window and the mess you made. 

Feeling guilty, you walked back, picking up the tools and fixing up the work bench. Troy didn’t yell at you for destroying part of his private shop or give you nasty looks while cleaning. After the two of you were done, you stood a few feet away from him, looking down.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. You saw him approach again, still looking down. You felt his hand on your head, ruffling your hair. When you glanced up, Troy let his hand fall on your bandages, slightly tugging at it. The pulling reopened your wounds, blood oozing out. Before you could react, Troy pinned you down, licking eagerly the blood. You yelped when he slightly pulled more at the wound with his sharp teeth. You remained still, breathing heavily. 

Troy tilted your head for you to face him, “That’s for making a mess in my shop.” He leaned down, kissing you on the lips, gently, “That’s for saving my life…” He caressed your cheek, frowning as you flinched again away from his touch. 

Tyreen wasn’t going to screw this up for him.

\------0000000------

Donovan paced through the execution grounds, whistling. A prisoner had been tied up to a post, whimpering and crying as the general went about picking a gun. Finally deciding, Donovan picked up a shotgun, reloading. 

“I’m having a good day, are you?” Donovan asked the prisoner, who proceeded to wail and plea for their life, “I’m having a fucking BLAST!” The general shot the prisoner in the face, laughing. He whistled another tune as he reloaded the shotgun, aiming again and shooting. 

“Things just work out in the end for those who are patient,” the general said to no one, “What do you think?” Donovan glanced at his EchoNet device, chuckling.

.:Unknown User: :D Deed is done. Father Troy is scary when angry!

.:D.Van: I’ll take it from here. I’m sure you’ll be watching.

.:Unknown User: :3c Remember our deal.

Donovan threw his EchoNet device at the ground, shooting it.

“Heh, yeah, I don’t recall a deal, asshole,” Donovan laughed. He put his shotgun away, venturing inside the building. The prisoners became nervous at his sight, shrinking back in their cells. Donovan hissed at them, laughing as they shook in fear. He made his way into the back end of the jailhouse, trying to keep his expression neutral. He stopped in front of a particular cell.

“To think you’d end up here, of all places,” Donovan leaned forward, getting a good glimpse of the occupant, “Right, Helen?”

Helen emerged into view, breathing heavily, “I bet your fucking enjoying this…”

“Me? Of course not. I’ve known you for a long time. The ever so dutiful high priestess Helen, a devout follower of the Calypsos,” Donovan sighed, “Oh, excuse me, former high priestess and ex-lover of Father Troy.” Helen growled, glaring at him.

“Jackal did a terrible job at trying to stop you,” Donovan crossed his arms, chuckling, “I’m surprised he isn’t in here with you.”

“Leave him out of this…” Helen hissed out, clenching her fists.

“Yeah, yeah. Poor fool, I suppose Troy could only save one of you two,” the general shook his head, “Because he knows what awaits those who mess with the God Queen’s playthings.”

A severe punishment at the discretion of Tyreen Calypso: Death.

“Tyreen is ready to explode, and here I thought she was going to blow up before you!” Donovan now laughed, unfazed by Helen’s glaring, “Oh Helen, you shouldn’t have gotten attached. You should have followed your predecessors’ steps, keep your mouth shut, and look pretty.”

Helen tried to reach Donovan, shouting, “YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” The general laughed more, slapping her hands away. 

“There are several ways that your fate may change, its up to you if you want to go for them. I’m being nice for once,” Donovan teased, pacing back and forth, “Think of this as a third chance unless you want to rot in here with the others and wait for Tyreen to kill you.”

The ex-priestess looked away.

Donovan shrugged, “Well, here they are. One, you rot here, Tyreen kills you. Two, you attempt to escape, don’t get far, Tyreen kills you. Three, become a plaything.” Helen quickly turned to face him.

“…..A plaything…?” she whispered, straightening up, “What the fuck are you talking about?!” 

“Clearly you can’t become Tyreen’s plaything, she hates your guts and is fucking attached to that feral mechanic. Troy? Out of the question. The other generals won’t try to bail you out,” Donovan tilted his head, waiting for her response.

“You hate playthings,” Helen stated, approaching the cell bars, “Everyone knows that…”

“I’m offering you a chance to get out. Of course, you’d have to prove yourself in the arena. And we all know who the reigning plaything is at the moment,” Donovan smirked. 

You.

“You’re fucking crazy…” Helen muttered, shaking the metal bars, “As always, using someone else to fight your battles, you asshole…” 

“Take it whichever way you want, I’m offering you a ‘get out of jail’ card,” Donovan was dangling bait. With Helen an emotional mess, the general knew she wasn’t going to think things through. 

“You can get even with Tyreen’s plaything without interference in the arena.”

Helen stared at him, expression vacant, gripping tight the bars. Donovan chuckled, waved goodbye to her, turning to walk away. Before he could reach the front part of the jailhouse, he stopped in his tracks when Helen called out to him.

“I’ll do it!”

Too easy, he thought.

\-------0000000000--------

The remaining generals, minus Donovan, awaited the arrival of the Calypsos into the Harvest grounds, eyeing you from a far. You were sitting next to Jackal under the shade by the left side of the spectator area, staring ahead, your robe not doing a good job hiding the healing wounds on your chest and neck area. Priests had filed by the right side, staring down at the ground.

Without much fanfare, the twins entered the area, Tyreen smirked as everyone stood up and bowed including you. Troy dragged his blade, eyebrows furrowed as he made his way to the generals, ignoring the priests on the side. The white-haired Calypso approached you and Jackal, smiling.

“Hi, doll. Good to see you,” she placed her hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. You let out a small hiss, the bites she left on your shoulder not healed. Tyreen tilted your head up, noticing the nicks on your face from Helen’s bar fight with you. She ignored the ones she gave you.

“I see someone left some nasty cuts on you, that’s not good,” Tyreen said in a mocking tone, gently patted you on the cheek, “If you behave, I’ll heal them for you, okay?” She smiled. You only stared at the floor, breathing heavily. Troy got near, grabbing Tyreen from her arm, “Let’s go.”

She pulled back, growling, “I’m not done yet, Troy. Mind your own fucking business…” Troy growled back, “Now…” He tugged harder at her arm, Tyreen flashing her Siren tattoos in anger. You froze up, scooting closer to Jackal who seemed nervous as well. The twins picked up on this, Tyreen smirking.

“Oh, I’m not going to hurt you, doll. Just sibling banter,” Tyreen reached out to hold your hand, “Right, Troy?” She didn’t look back at him. Troy glared at her. 

“You’re scaring her…” Troy muttered out, “Stop it.”

“Are you scared, doll?” Tyreen asked, giggling, “Be honest.”

“….” You shook your head, your free hand gripping tight at your robe. 

“See, Troy? She’s not scared. Don’t speak for her,” Tyreen let go of your hand, laughing, “I hope you enjoy the show!” She kept laughing as she made her way to the generals. Troy huffed, glancing at you and Jackal. The priest looked unease, conflicted as you stared back at the ground, growling. The tall Calypso was about to grab your hand when you pushed it away.

“Don’t…” you hissed out, “You have caused enough problems for me…” You glared at him then at Jackal. The priest shook his head, raising his arms in defense. Troy sighed in defeat, acknowledging the truth in your words. 

“TROY!” Tyreen yelled, “Get over here, now!”

Troy didn’t say anything else to you, turned to leave, shouting something at Tyreen who looked irritated. You sat back down, glaring at them as they spoke with the generals and a hologram of Mouthpiece.

“Why did you do it…”

You blinked, turned to look at Jackal who was frowning. What was he talking about?

“Do what?” you asked, angry.

“Why did you tell our God Queen about your meeting with Helen?” Jackal questioned, narrowing his eyes, “You usually keep to yourself, you never seek her out.”

Seek Tyreen out? The day that happens, Promethea would be frozen over completely.

“I did no such thing… Did you hit your head hard on something?” you countered, growing more irritated, “You fucking people and your bullshit… Whatever it is, leave me out of it…” Everything was piling up, one surprise after another.

“I saw the surveillance feed, you went straight to the Calypsos’ living quarters…” Jackal stared at the Calypsos who began their Harvest LiveScream. Tyreen waved at the surveyors, posing and throwing a hand sign. Troy laughed in the background, twirling his blade around, while stepping on a prisoner. Both were acting as if everything was fine between them. All about the performance for their followers. 

“I went straight to my hut… got ambushed….then went to the warehouse…” You observed the twins. Lifting your hands up near him, you showed Jackal the bruising from the busted brass knuckles that were still fresh, “I beat the shit out them, I was nowhere near your precious God Queen…”

“Heya! Tonight’s Harvest is a special one, we have some special guests straight from Pandora!” Tyreen clapped while Troy dragged in a squirming body bag. He ripped it open with his hands, dumping the prisoner next to the one who was tied up, crying.

You zoned in on the prisoner. They were wearing an old Atlas Crimson Lance helmet. 

“A soldier..?” you whispered.

“A Crimson Raider…” Jackal corrected you, “A former Crimson Lance soldier from the Atlas Corporation…” You gulped, trying to keep yourself calm.

“You fucking assholes! Our commander is going to beat the shit out of you!” the Crimson Raider shouted, kicking while hoisted up by their tied-up arms by Troy. The twins cackled, Tyreen poking the soldier on their chest.

“I would like to see her try! Pft, hahaha!” Tyreen punched the soldier in the stomach, causing them to squirm, “I hope she’s watching this!” Troy threw the soldier down, bringing up his blade with his mechanical arm. 

“Two for the price one, today’s special!” he shouted as he decapitated the Crimson Raider and the other prisoner. You looked away, feeling ill. Seeing the old Crimson Lance helmet reminded you of the old Atlas stronghold. But it also reminded you of that horrible day with your brother.

“The stage for the Harvest has been set! The Calypsos will begin their Harvest ritual!” Mouthpiece’s hologram appeared, displaying screens of the area. Several captured Crimson Raiders were attempting to hide from the surveyors in vain. 

The twins crouched, ready to sprint as Mouthpiece sounded off the alarm, both of them bolting into the open field. The spectators went wild, applauding as the Calypsos chased after their prey, Troy tearing into flesh, Tyreen punching and kicking and finishing off by absorbing the Crimson Raiders’ energy. You could see they were releasing their bottled-up anger, stress, and exhaustion. With each kill, the twins grew more unhinged, more maniacal, more…

Feral.

“I’m glad they didn’t do a bet this time around…” you whispered. Jackal nodded slowly, “Its either us or them…” For once the priest wasn’t crying from praise.

\---------0000-----

Steele observed Tyreen as the younger Siren demonstrated her powers by taking in energy from a small plant, shriveling it up. The child glanced at her nervously.

“Keep going,” Steele ordered, eye slightly twitching. The white-haired Calypso let out a tiny sob, nodding as she moved to a larger plant, sucking the life force out of it. Another sob was heard from the side, Troy held at gun point by a Crimson Lance soldier. 

“Big sis…” Troy mumbled, hiccupping. Tyreen’s upper lip quivered, crying again. Steele glared at the child, her own Siren tattoos flashing in a threatening manner. 

“Keep. Going,” Steele hissed out, “Your brother will be punished if you stop.” Tyreen shook her head, pleading, “N-No…Don’t hurt him…” The pale Siren pointed at the plants, “Then, proceed, child.”

Troy wailed for their mother, begging Steele and the soldier. They both ignored him. After a while, Steele grew impatient. 

“BE QUIET!” she shouted, slamming her fist on the table, spooking Tyreen. The child fell back on the floor, crying. The soldier tossed Troy down to the floor, making their way to pick up Tyreen. 

“You are pathetic! If Supreme Commander Gaia saw you, she’d be ashamed that you are disgracing the Siren name!” Steele shouted, glaring at the twins, “Get them out of my sight!”

“Yes, Commandant Steele,” the soldier grabbed Tyreen and Troy, dragging them out. The twins started kicking and screaming. The soldier got fed up, tugged hard Troy’s arm, causing the boy to scream out in pain. 

“T-Troy!” Tyreen cried out, her Siren tattoos flashing. Steele was watching from the door as the soldier collapsed on the floor, gagging. Tyreen crawled over to Troy who was sobbing, holding his injured arm. Crimson swirls danced around the soldier, making its way to Troy’s arm, healing his injury. The boy clung to his sister, shaking. 

“Impressive…” Steele said, noticing crystals breaking through the soldier’s armor, “Oh, Supreme Commander Gaia… we shall not fail you… your legacy with live on with this child…”

\------00000000------------

“Donovan didn’t join us this time around?” Tyreen asked, looking outside the war technical, the barren wasteland boring the God Queen. Troy didn’t verbally respond, only grunting. He was facing the other way, glaring.

“Still mad about Helen?” Tyreen drummed her fingers on her armrest, “Or about my plaything? Take your pick.” She heard Troy growl.

“You know, that Harvest helped me a lot, I feel more energized,” the white-haired Calypso inspected her Siren tattoos that were glowing, “I hope our little friend was watching, can’t wait to maim them.”

“How do you expect to achieve that by torturing the mechanic, the only one with leads.”

Tyreen chuckled, “So you are mad about my plaything.” She turned to face him, grinning, “What was this again about getting attached?”

“You are letting that fucker get to you,” Troy was facing away still, a hand resting on the hilt of his blade, “Because you weren’t able to use your powers.” Tyreen frowned, huffing. 

“Whatever,” she crossed her arms, “It was only a one-time thing.” Before Troy could respond, a ping was heard. Now the he faced Tyreen who was taking out her EchoNet device, a message displayed.

.:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED

.:Unknown User: What did you do to her.

.:Unknown User: [USER SENT IMAGE]

[A still image from a surveillance feed shows you checking your wounds by the warehouse.]

.:Unknown User: Hurt her again and you will pay dearly, Calypsos.

Tyreen tossed out her device out the window in anger.

\------0000000-------

“Who is that?”

Hephaestus jumped, turning around with a screwdriver in hand, ready to attack. He sighed, seeing you standing by the garage door into his workshop. You were half asleep, rubbing your eyes. 

“You should be asleep…” Hephaestus whispered, resuming his work. You approaching him, poking him on the side, “You didn’t answer my question. Who is that lady in the screen?” 

A military file of Steele was displayed with various other images. Titling your head, you gazed at her profile, blinking. The other images displayed her around Crimson Lance soldiers, generals, and corporate people.

“A horrible woman,” Hephaestus answered, not looking up, “A monster.” Surprised, you eyed Hephaestus. Your brother generally liked people, his comment catching you off guard. His tone was laced with anger and disgust.

“A monster?” you asked, noticing the Siren tattoos on Steele.

“Yeah, Commandant Steele is a Siren,” Hephaestus replied, glaring at the computer, “Sirens are monsters… don’t get involved with one.” You gulped, confused. This was the first time you heard about ‘Sirens.’ What was special about them?

“Is she from work? Or from one of your outside jobs?” You saw Hephaestus turn off the computer, your brother glancing at you. 

“With Atlas, you don’t have to worry about her. She rarely ventures out to the wastes,” He reached out to mess with your hair, “Go to sleep or else Wilkins will have you clean the communal baths.” You gasped, shaking your head, “Oh no! Okaybyedon’tgotobedlate!” You rushed out, ranting about dirty toilets. 

Hephaestus chuckled, smiling. He gazed at the blueprints on his workbench and at the small unfinished robot. The large name “GORTYS” was displayed. 

His and your ticket out of Promethea.

\------000000000-------

You stood in your waiting room, fidgeting, impatient. Jackal was next to you, quiet. Mouthpiece was heard from the other side of the wall, announcing the Let’s Flay and the victory of the Calypsos over the Crimson Raiders, dealing a blow to Pandoran rebels. You could care less about these Crimson Raiders, only itching to beat up playthings to let loose all the aggression you had going on. 

“I suppose I will expect that jacket to get dirty,” Jackal commented. Your eye twitched at the mention of the garment. After the Calypsos returned from their raid, Tyreen gifted you another jacket, a smaller version of her own that she wears. You were hoping to get it shredded in this fight. 

“LET’S CELEBRATE! FOR THE CALYPSOS!” Mouthpiece announced, the walls collapsing, allowing you entrance to the arena. Jackal bowed as you left the room. The crowds were enthusiastic when they spotted you, excited for the promise of seeing more action from the God Queen’s feral plaything. Tyreen, Troy and the generals were seated, applauding. The surveyors swooshed in, getting a close-up of you. Your fellow mechanics and Perseus held signs, cheering you on. You shot Perseus a nod of acknowledgement, giving him and the mechanics a thumbs up. At least here, Tyreen wasn’t able to stop you from seeing Perseus.

“AND MAKING THEIR DEBUT, PROPHET DONOVAN’S PLAYTHING!” Mouthpiece set off more fireworks. Everyone gasped, looking around in confusion. You blinked, surprised. Tyreen and Troy immediately turned to face Donovan who was clapping still. 

Helen entered the arena, twirling her ceremonial daggers, making eye contact with you. Gulping, you had a worried expression on your face. She only glared.

“What the hell..?!” Perseus said. You and Perseus had last heard about Helen being placed in the jailhouse after the bar fight. 

“Donovan! What is the meaning of this?!” Troy shouted, angry, “Explain yourself!”

“And it better be a damn good reason too!” Tyreen hissed out, gritting her teeth.

Donovan remained calm, “I figured from the last Let’s Flay that the God Queen’s plaything needed something to keep her interested. What better way than this?” He shrugged, pointing at you staring at Helen.

“What…?” Troy said, turning to face the arena. Tyreen noticed the crowd growing eager, more pumped by the sight of the ex-priestess. 

“Besides, who doesn’t love some romance drama?” Donovan smirked, now staring at Troy, “Right, Father Troy?” The tall Calypso clenched his fists, lost. 

“He’s right, Troy.”

Troy faced Tyreen who was smirking. He felt cornered.

She chuckled, noticing you were shouting something at Helen, “Our viewers and followers will love this. We need to give it to them.” She was furious, but she had to keep up appearances.

“Tyreen-!”

“You can’t cover for her this time around, Troy,” Tyreen stared at Troy, expression vacant, tone distant, “Know your place, brother.” The other generals were shocked, watching Tyreen and Donovan ganging up on Troy. They couldn’t do much other than act as crowd control.

The God Queen had snapped.

The chats were flooded with excitement, fanatics commenting about Helen and you, conflicted on who to cheer for. 

“Mouthpiece, start the Let’s Flay,” Tyreen ordered, sitting down. Donovan sat down, proud of the events unfolding. Troy’s hands shook as he looked around, trying to contain himself. 

“PLAYTHINGS! SPILL BLOOD!” Mouthpiece announced, alarm sounding off. You took off running, your game plan thrown off with Helen in the field. The last Let’s Flay you went all out, not remembering much and with the current problems you got dragged in, you wanted to let loose. But not with ex-priestess around.

Helen began fighting other playthings, easily disposing of them, hardly using or attempting to use guns. You used your chains, dagger, and the new spiked brass knuckles that Perseus had worked on and perfected. There were close calls between you and Helen, you tried your hardest to avoid landing any stray hits on her. The crowd went wild, liking the new action with Helen included. Tyreen watched on, smugly. Troy remained expressionless, pushing a surveyor away from him. The generals kept face, Donovan clapping at the action. 

Perseus kept his eyes on you, nervous. He could tell you were trying really hard not to go mad. The small gasps, the gritting of teeth, the wild looks and the brief relapses into bloodlust were the signs he saw from the previous Let’s Flay.

“SPILL BLOOD! SPILL BLOOD!” the crowd chanted.

Soon, you and Helen got cornered, back to back.

“Let’s clear these assholes out and settle this shit as the last two standing,” Helen hissed out. 

“God damnit, Helen… Why did you do this?!” you shouted. Helen didn’t respond, only resuming the fight. You barely dodged an attack as you kept yelling at her while disposing of the other playthings. There were loud popping noises, splashes of blood, and body parts flying around as the two of you finished off the remaining competition. The crowd was loving every single moment of it.

“Just the two of us now…” Helen said, standing a few feet away from you, ceremonial daggers in hand, leering. There were no more pleasantries. You could see Helen’s resolve to end you.

You nodded slowly, removing the spiked brass knuckles and your chains, discarding them on the ground, flicking your wrist. You dagger glistened, dripping blood. The surveyors circled around you and Helen. 

A knife fight. Both of you bloody and bruised.

“WHAT A SHOCKING TWIST! THE PLAYTHINGS WILL SETTLE THIS WITH A KNIFE FIGHT!?” Mouthpiece sang out, a little too enthusiastic. The crowd was too, whooping and cheering, smacking the sides of the arena. Perseus looked on in horror, remembering too vividly the bar fight. There was no Father Troy to stop it this time around. 

Tyreen was at the edge of her seat, you couldn’t tell if she was angry, excited, or turned on by this turn of events. Troy on the other hand, shrunk in this throne. 

Helen smacked her daggers together, sending out sparks, prowling. You mimicked her, slightly hunched, circling her. Your heartbeat went into overdrive, adrenaline rushing through your system. 

“I trusted you…” she spat out, growling.

“I have no idea what went at the bar, but whatever it was, it wasn’t my fault!” you snarled at her, “I never went to Tyreen after we met at the cathedral…”

“LIAR!” she yelled, lunging forward, you following suit. Your dagger and one of her own crossing, she used the opening to strike at your side, hitting hard. You screamed.

Splashes of your blood hit the ground, making beautiful patterns on the dirt.

Tyreen looked into the arena in horror, Troy running to the edge of the platform, yelling. Donovan got up, ordering Helen to finish you. Perseus shouted at you to defend yourself, gasping. 

The crowd went wild.

“BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!”

Helen managed to land a hit, thrusting hard the blade into your side, hissing. You gritted your teeth in pain, grabbing your side, stumbling backwards. She moved forward, intent in finishing you off with her other knife. Turning around, you swept at her feet with your leg, throwing her off balance. Her knife was still wedged on your side. 

“Gah! You fucking bitch!” Helen yelled, rolling over, steady. You crouched, holding on to your side, bleeding. 

She lunged again, doing stab motions with her remaining dagger. You jumped backwards, taking off your blood-soaked jacket, coiling it around your wrist. With swift motions, you smacked her with it. This would do without any chains.

“THE PLAYTHING IS IMPROVISING!? A BLOODY JACKET ACTING AS A WET RAG!?!” Mouthpiece shouted in excitement. 

You heard Tyreen yelling at you to finish Helen off whereas Troy remained silent, but his face was a mixture of worry and fear. 

The first smack landed on her face, pushing her backwards, her face now bloody. You kept at it, wincing with the dagger stuck on your side. Helen managed to grab the jacket, pulling you towards her, kicking at the dagger embedded on the side. You managed to land a strike on her face with your dagger, leaving a large gash on her cheek. She held on to her face, snarling.

The crowd roared at the bloodshed, chanting, “MAYHEM! MAYHEM!”

Both of you jumped backwards, staring at each other again.

“I..I never went to look for Tyreen… I was sincere in everything I said to you…!” you pleaded, taking deep breaths, “I don’t know what footage you saw… I never told anyone anything…”

“You’re a fucking liar… The one time I was nice to you and it got me more in trouble!” Helen yelled, still bleeding from her cheek wound. She tried to tackle you down, only succeeding in landing a hit on your leg, the same one she had wounded at the bar fight. Helen kept going, trying to find an opening but you blocked any attempts with your blood-soaked jacket. You managed to land a hit on her shoulder. 

“KILL! KILL! KILL!” the crowd kept chanted, going insane as they watched you and Helen dance around the arena. 

Helen missed a swing, your dagger meeting her stomach, slashing through. She stumbled back, holding on to her wound. You jumped back, realizing what had happened. 

“N-No..!” you gasped. You were nursing your own wound, her dagger still embedded on your side. Tyreen smirked, finally seeing real action. Troy was numb, unable to react. Donovan had been patiently waiting for this moment.

When you’d deal the kill. 

“THE GOOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING HAS LANDED A FATAL STRIKE ON PROPHET DONOVAN’S PLAYTHING! SHALL SHE EMERGE VICTORIOUS?!” Mouthpiece asked.

“KILL! KILL! KILL!”

“I refuse!” you shouted, throwing your dagger on the ground, “I’m not going to kill her!” The crowd gasped, a sea of confusion. Tyreen angrily slammed her fist on her armrest, standing up. Troy glanced at her and then at you.

A plaything refusing to kill? The God Queen’s plaything!

Helen held on to her injured shoulder, “What are you doing?! Finish me off!” She knelt down on one knee, breathing heavily. Her mortal injury in her stomach weakening her. She didn’t have much time. 

“No! This fucking stupid!” you hissed out, stomping your foot, “I’ve had enough of their fucking games…” You glared at the Calypsos, seething. All of this for their sick entertainment, their followers eating it up. 

“Finish her!” Tyreen commanded, “That’s an order!”

“FINISH HER! FINISH HER! FINISH HER!” the crowd chanted. The warehouse mechanics joined the crowd, urging you to follow through. Perseus stared in horror, shocked. 

/I don’t like fighting. Never did, but I had to. I had to in order to survive. Nobody is going to protect me. It falls on me./ Your words echoed in the mechanic’s mind, finally sinking in. Out in the wastes, it was the survival of the fittest, mentality like that is what lets bandits see another day. Perseus wanted to shout at the crowd to stop, the words stuck in his throat. He looked at Tyreen in fear, the God Queen ordering the punishment for Helen.

The other generals didn’t know how to react, Donovan smugly looking at Troy who now looked lost, unsure what to do. Playthings are disposable, that was one of the rules. 

“WHAT A SHOCKING TWIST OF EVENTS! THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING IS SHOWING MERCY?!” Mouthpiece announcing, “FINISH HER! FINISH HER!”

Tyreen clenched her fists, on edge. You were disobeying her in front of her followers present and on the stream. 

“Basil, order armed cultists in the arena, have them take care of it…” Tyreen ordered, gritting her teeth. Troy immediately looked at her, “W-What are you doing?!” Basil, nervous, pinged for back-up, uncomfortable at the events unfolding. 

“Allow me, God Queen,” Donovan bowed, “To handle this.” Tyreen waved him off as the general departed the spectator area, Troy rushing after him but was stopped by Tyreen.

“Where do you think you’re going…” Tyreen hissed out, pushing him back on his seat, “As always, I have to clean up your mess with your bedwarmers…” Troy snarled, clenching his fists. He wanted to stop this, but even in his position, he was powerless.

He couldn’t show weakness to his followers. No freedom.

“FINISH HER! FINISH HER!”

Helen stumbled towards you, dagger in hand, “Come on, end this… You know that I’m not leaving this place alive…” You wanted to tell her there was a chance. That a medic was going to save her life. That somehow, she’d be able to survive and hopefully, just hopefully, regain her freedom.

You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince yourself of the lies.

You shook your head, stepping away from her, “N-No… Not like this… Not for them!” The walls near you and Helen collapsed, a group of armed cultists rushing in, Donovan trailing behind. You growled at the sight of the general, “You fucking asshole!”

“Not here for you, feral plaything,” Donovan gestured at the armed cultists to grab Helen, “Since you won’t be doing your job, I volunteered to put down my plaything.” Helen yelped as she was grabbed, Donovan kneeing her on the back, causing her to fall down on her knees.

“NO!” You lunged forward only to meet the end of Donovan’s pistol on your face. 

“Back off,” the general threatened. You slapped it away, only to be grabbed by the other group of armed cultists. Donovan shook his head, disappointed, “Disobedient.” He placed the end of the barrel on Helen’s forehead. The ex-priestess shut her eyes, tears falling down. He cocked the gun, trigger slightly pressed.

Tyreen watched, waiting. Troy, beside her, looked away, waiting for the sound of the gunshot, unable to watch. 

“KILL HER! KILL HER! KILL HER!”

“Prophet Donovan will deliver the punishment on his plaything!” Mouthpiece announced, “DELIVERING THE LAST RITES!”

“N-No! I-I’ll do it! I’ll kill her!” You begged, struggling against the hold of the armed cultists, “Let me do it, please!” Helen opened her eyes, silently pleading. Donovan glanced at you, smirking. 

“See, it wasn’t that bad,” the general grabbed Helen’s dagger, approaching you, “I’ll allow a mercy kill, you like those, don’t you?” You glared at him, grabbing the dagger. The armed cultists pushed you towards Helen. Your hands shook as brought the dagger to her neck.

“I-I’m so sorry…” you whispered, “I-I’ll make this quick…” Helen nodded, accepting her fate.

“FINISH HER! FINISH HER!”

Mustering up the strength, you plunged the dagger across her neck, slicing through. A gush of blood sprung from the cut. As you aimed at her heart, you were caught off guard when Donovan stuck his gun on Helen’s forehead, shooting. Bits of blood and guts landed on you. The armed cultists let go of her, the body landing forward. The crowd went quiet.

You screamed, scrambling to pick up Helen, “N-No! NO! NO NO NO! HELEN! NO! NOT LIKE THIS! NO! NO!” You shook her, pleading. The armed cultists tried to grab you but you pushed them away. 

Donovan put away his gun, sighing, “You were taking too long, the God Queen is impatient.” 

Tyreen narrowed her eyes, “Mouthpiece, call the victor.” Troy’s face was unreadable as he stared down at the floor. 

“THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING IS THE VICTOR!” Mouthpiece sang out. The crowd cheered, the warehouse mechanics hugged each other, high-fiving that you had won. Perseus was grabbing the edge of the spectator area, eyes glued on you, worry present in his face, a tear falling down his cheek. He couldn’t celebrate this victory. He knew you hadn’t fought to survive this time around. 

Even through the flooding of fireworks atop the arena, you kept shaking Helen’s body, screaming for her to wake up. Even as Tyreen announced and thanked everyone for tuning in on the Let’s Flay, you begged to any entity out there to help Helen. 

Donovan crossed his arms, shaking his head, disgusted, “You cry for someone who wanted you dead? Pathetic.” He spat near you, ordering the armed cultists to retreat, following suit, out of the arena. You sobbed into Helen’s neck, her blood soaking your clothes further. 

“Not like this… Not like this…” you wailed, “Not like this… why… why… You damn fool…”

/I guess Tyreen got used to playthings and bedwarmers leaving at the snap of her fingers./

You couldn’t even kill her, even as Tyreen ordered you to.

/If I behave, I get to live, watching Troy pursue someone he can’t have. /

She didn’t behave.

/This is my first heartbreak…/

You couldn’t even break her heart with the dagger, sparing her from the suffering. 

/It stings like a bitch… you feel your heart being crushed over and over again… A wave of numbness just takes over your body… you don’t feel anything before it hits you out of nowhere… the sudden slap of reality./ Your own words taunting you.

The harsh slap of reality hitting you as Donovan shot Helen in front of you, thinking you’d mercy kill her. A plaything waiting to be discarded or killed. 

You kept crying, hugging Helen’s lifeless body.

A lone message was on the Calypsos’ EchoNet devices.

.:Unknown User: Congratulations, you broke her spirit.

\-----00000-------

You stumbled forward into the waiting room, taking out the dagger embedded on your side, not caring for the gushing blood. Feeling disgusted, you threw the item far away from you. You wrapped the jacket around your chest, hoping it’d lessen the bleeding.

Helen was long abandoned in the arena, you didn’t want to know where her body would be dumped afterwards. The Children of the Vault were satisfied with their recent bloody sacrifice bestowed to them by the God Queen’s plaything by proxy. A complete monster. 

Growling, you held your face in your hands, screaming, kicking the lone chair in the room across. Disgust ran through you. 

‘You attempted to give her a more peaceful way to go,’ the little monster of sympathy in your mind said.

Clenching your fists, you tried to compose yourself. 

Jackal opened the door, silently approaching you, his voice small, “If I may… that was a noble thing you attempted to do... I’ve known her for quite some time, nice girl. Unfortunate about her relation with Father Troy...”

“Speak ill of your Gods?” you asked, seething.

“No, of Helen. Most of them believed that they were the ‘one’ for the Twin Gods. I’ve seen many come and go….” Jackal trailed off, his voice strained, “Let’s go. They await you.”

You nodded, walking out the door. The walk to the medical room was quiet save for your gasps and grunts of pains. Once reaching the room, Jackal opened the doors, allowing you entrance. You swore he was quietly crying. He paused behind you.

“…She was my daughter, all I had left,” he whispered, while bowing behind you, immediately closing the door. Your heart sank, your blood boiling in anger. More dark memories taunted you with this revelation. 

The Calypsos were standing by the medical beds, Tyreen approaching you with a grin, but her expression dropping a bit when you didn’t react when she grabbed your hand.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

/He’s going to pursue you and it doesn’t matter if you are Tyreen’s plaything./ He wanted you to fuck him. You didn’t want his attention. Or Tyreen’s.

“Nothing,” you replied, your rage seeping through.

Troy remained far, staring at the floor. Tyreen looked back at him, “Alright, what’s with the sour mood? My plaything just wiped out the competition! This is usually the part where you try to make a weird remark!”

“Not in the mood, Ty,” Troy replied, still staring down. 

Tyreen pouted, crossing her arms, “This isn’t going to work. I told you Helen was going to be trouble. The only thing she was good for was making this fight entertaining.”

“Did she mean anything to you.”

Both Calypsos turned to look at you. You were glaring at Troy. He immediately looked away. 

“ANSWER ME!” you yelled, fists clenched, “She fucking threw her life away for you!” 

Tyreen’s eyes widen, snarling, slapping you across the face. You spat back, she immediately grabbed you by the neck, with her Siren hand, “Watch your fucking tone, plaything. You dare threaten my brother in front of me?!” You whimpered in pain as she kneed you. 

Troy shouted, “Ty, stop it!”

Tyreen glared at him, “Stay back, I need to teach her a lesson again, disobeying me in front of our flock. She needs to learn her place…” She pulled at your hair, digging into your wounds. You bit your lip, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of screaming. This further infuriated her as she activated her Siren powers. You could feel hot flashes going through your body. 

“Get out, Troy,” Tyreen muttered, not looking at him, digging her nails further into your scalp.

“Stop this at once!” Troy demanded, rushing over but stopping when an orb of blood got in front him, “Are you fucking serious?!”

“She’s not your plaything, she’s mine. Remember that,” Tyreen muttered, “Get out.” She snapped her fingers.

Troy snarled when the medical room doors barged open, two badass psychos with several priests entering, heading towards the taller Calypso. You struggled against Tyreen’s grip, hissing as she pushed you down to the floor, stepping on your back on a stab wound. The badass psychos grabbed Troy, pulling him out of the room.

“You’re going to regret this, Tyreen!” Troy yelled as he was pulled away. The badass psychos dragged him out, the priests slamming the door, standing guard outside. 

Troy yelled in anger as he heard your screams from the room, Tyreen’s laughter echoing through the hallways. 

Donovan, from a far and opposite to where the badass psychos were taking Troy, stood by, hearing the commotion. A diabolical smirk was plastered on his face. Helen was down for the count. 

And so were you.

He looked at his new EchoNet device, chuckling.

.:Unknown User: Well played. I won’t snitch on you. I’m going to see how this plays out. If anything happens to her. Well… you and the Calypsos will find out eventually. (skull emoji)

\--------0000000000-------

You didn’t see the Calypsos after the fight, your outburst against Troy led to severe punishment by Tyreen. You were nursing the injuries from the fight and the beating she gave you. At this point you didn’t care. Part of you hoped she went through with her threat of killing you, giving you the release of freedom. Maybe you should have let Helen kill you in the arena, then Troy would have set his sights back at her again. Maybe you should have let Cepheus end you, his fault you were in this mess.

Back in the shop, you laid low, hands shaking as you tried working on service parts for the day. Your bruises and slight marks on your face evidence of a ‘disobedient’ plaything. You were thankful Perseus kept the others away from you, if you couldn’t punch the Calypsos, they would be the next target. Perseus was still under threat, unable get near you. You didn’t mind, it was best if no one else got killed by association with you. 

You were isolated.

You looked down at your hands, sighing. Anger teemed again in you. Frustrated, you threw the service parts from the work bench, scaring everyone. You stomped out of the warehouse, Perseus running out to see your retreating form, getting lost in the crowd. 

All your body ached. You were sure you lost feeling in your back and side where Helen’s dagger had penetrated. Any priest that you saw on your way to the hut sneered. Tyreen’s little toys. Her eyes. You had insulted their God Queen. Only they knew, but not the rest of the cultists. Maybe if the fanatics found out, then you’d get jumped, killed. Probably recorded for Tyreen’s entertainment. 

After all, you were only a plaything. Waiting to be discarded, killed. 

Were you discarded already?

Storming into your hut, you made way into the bathroom. Gazing at the mirror, your defeated self stared back, sad. You refused to go to the infirmary, not wanting others to see the injuries. You wanted to spare them the God Queen’s wrath. After being let go of after Tyreen’s punishment spree, you found out a cracked rib kept giving you issues at night, while eating, sleeping. Breathing. The past few days miserable. 

You held on to the sink, gasping for air. Was this it? Sliding and slumping over the toilet, you threw up bile, mixed with blood. Red. Red. Red. Crying out in pain, you emptied the contents of your stomach, what was little was left. You attempted to flush the toilet, missing the lever a few times before succeeding. 

With your clothes on, you turned on the shower, letting the cold water numb you. You wanted to remain there but your body begged for warmth.

Fatigued, you crawled to your bed, getting under the covers, ignoring the bed sheets soaking up blood and water. Your mind raced. Did Tyreen really discard you? Jackal never came around either. Why would he? You killed his daughter. The daughter that had been in love with Troy. 

Short-lived, but Perseus’s words rung through your head. 

/Playthings end up killed./

Injuries inflicted by Tyreen were slowly killing you.

You had shitty luck.

\------000000------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then, that’s probably the darkest and angsty thing I’ve ever written. : ) 
> 
> Comments and kudos feed this tiny gremlin!


	5. Family Matters: Broken Toy (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For every action there is a consequence. Tyreen learns the hard way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Extreme physical punishment, violence, attempted suicide, extreme self-harm, children getting hurt  
> TW: Suicide idealization
> 
> Lyrics were used from the following songs. I do not own these songs. I recommend hearing them at the same time reading the parts where you see the asterisks. 
> 
> * Put Your Head On My Shoulder – Paul Anka  
> ** Bang, Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) – Nancy Sinatra  
> *** Ain’t No Sunshine – Bill Withers  
> **** Paint It, Black – The Rolling Stones
> 
> As always, not beta-read. My cat fell asleep while attempting to edit the chapter.

\-----00000------

Troy sniffed as he stood in the corner, clenching his fists. He glanced over to his side, glaring at Tyreen. His sister returned the gesture, dried tears on her face. She stood on the opposite corner of the room. Leto, arms crossed, sternly looked at them, shaking her head.

“Troy, Tyreen, face forward,” Leto said, tapping her foot, “You both are in time-out. Not a single word or glance from you two.” The twins sobbed a bit, complying with their mother’s request.

Leto sighed, holding in her hand a broken toy: a torn-up doll.

The cause of the twin’s current time-out. 

The dirtied ragdoll had seen better days, sporting a frilly white dress with red flowers, now torn apart at the arms and legs, the filling peeking out, and holes on the white fabric. Tiny strands of hair remained on the doll’s head, most of it ripped out by Tyreen when trying to take the doll away from Troy. 

“You poor thing, barely hanging on,” Leto said, picking up the clumps of hair and filling scattered on the floor, “Please forgive my children for what they did to you.” The twins quietly sneaked a peek at their mother, curious. 

“Time-out, both of you, remember,” Leto reminded them, setting the doll on the bed. The twins yelped, facing forward. Their cell room in the Atlas quarters proved to be a challenge to contain the energy of the twins, causing them to fight more frequent. The doll, a little gift from Hephaestus and the only thing allowed aside from the assigned toys, was to be shared by the twins. However, Tyreen and Troy soon learned they both didn’t like to give up the doll to the other. The state of the doll at present bared the harsh brunt of their actions. 

“Will you fix it, mummy?” Troy asked, still facing forward. Tyreen hiccupped, sniffing.

“I don’t have needle and thread to sew it up,” Leto said, collecting the doll’s items and setting it in a tray, “Until mister Hephaestus comes back, I’ll ask… so, no doll for now.”

Tyreen wailed, hiding her face in the corner. Troy glanced at her, nervous. He then too started to cry again.

Leto rubbed her forehead, frustrated. She kept forgetting the twins were susceptible to each other’s emotions. 

“The doll will get fixed, you two have to be patient,” Leto tried to comfort them, “And soon, it will be good as new.” This did little to calm the agitated twins.

\-----000000------

You rolled over on the floor, gagging and coughing out blood. Tyreen kicked you, her steel-toed boot injuring further your side. Gasping for air, you fought back the tears of pain, biting your lip to quell another scream. Your throat was hurting from yelling and Tyreen strangling you.

“You have disobeyed me for the last time in front of everyone!” Tyreen shouted, kicking you again, furious, “Be fucking glad I healed up those stab wounds, next time I won’t be merciful!” She attempted to kick you again, but you moved away, her boot landing near your chest. You hissed out in pain, curling up. Tyreen growled, kicking and kicking again on your side. 

“Let this beat some fucking sense into you….” Tyreen spat out, glaring at you, “Cross me again and I will kill you! YOU’RE A FUCKING PLAYTHING!” She tossed over the medical beds in anger, storming off the medical room, startling the priests guarding the doors outside. They merely sneered at you, closing the doors, leaving you alone inside.

You remained on the floor, finally letting the tears fall. Aching and bruised, you silently prayed for deliverance. Time slowly went by, your body allowing you a few spurts of energy to get up, shaking. With not much left to do with your massive injuries, you attempted to wash off the blood from your face and hands, ignoring the sharp pain coursing through your body. You glanced at the mirror in the medical room, your sad self staring back. 

“Why did you let her do this to you?” Your reflection asked.

“I don’t know…” you answered, crying more, every sob hurting your chest.

\-------0000000-------

“I’m disappointed in you.”

You heard your own voice.

“Why do you deny me?”

You stared into the mirror, bloody and bruised up from the beating Tyreen gave you. Your body wouldn’t stop shaking as you threw up blood. The mirror self glared back at you, snarling.

“You’re pathetic. We could have easily fought her, but instead you cowered like a skag pup!”

You were exhausted. No matter how many times you tried, your shitty luck attracted trouble. Gone were the days you wandered the wastes, scavenging for food and goods to trade. Gone were the days hiding from Master. Gone were the days of being with the Vipers… Gone were the days of the Skullmashers, trying to figure out how to fix their bandit technicals…

Gone were the days when your brother would hug you at the end of a long work day, keeping you safe from harm.

Gone were the days you were free.

Now you were broken at the hands of a Siren. The same type of monster your brother warned you about.

“There’s still time.” 

You shook your head. The little monster was beginning to resurface again. The little monster that kept you company during the fights, blocking all trauma. The little monster that wanted you to let go of all constraints. To instill fear. To cast judgment. To spill blood.

The little monster that wanted to come out and play. Show everyone a good time.

“There’s no time left, Mad Queen. You’re dead,” you whispered, throwing up more blood, coughing, “And just like I will be soon enough… hopefully….” You held your side, a sharp pain piercing through your body. 

A cracked rib. Tyreen had stomped down hard when you struggled away. 

You wheezed, keeling over the sink, crying out in pain. 

“I just… I just want to go home…” you sobbed.

“You don’t have a home,” the little monster said.

“I know…” you wailed, trying to keep calm, “I know…” You looked at yourself, tears streaming free down your face, the harsh reality sinking again. You had nowhere to go. You had nowhere to hide. 

You were alone. 

The one friend you made, pushed aside, threatened. The one man you tolerated perhaps hated you for killing his daughter. You broke down, hugging yourself, ignoring the pain on your chest. You wanted someone to tell you it was going to be okay. You wanted someone to hold you close. 

You wanted someone to protect you.

You were ready to throw the towel and call it quits. 

“Its not that easy, you know.” You cursed at the little monster, truth in her words.  
-  
\----000000------

Splashing water on your face, you gently dried your skin with a soft towel, ignoring the small bruises and cuts on your chest, shoulders and arms. The robe you wore covered little of your form. Arms snaked themselves around your waist, a body pressed on your back. Tyreen pulled down the robe slightly from the shoulders, kissing the exposing skin.

“Come back to bed, doll,” she whispered, gently biting your shoulder, “It’s awfully cold without you there.” Sighing, you complied with her demand, letting her tug you back to her bed. It was late at night, Tyreen summoning you to her living quarters after being notified that there was another ambush attack. You highly doubted she was worried for your safety, instead more ecstatic about seeing your fight in the surveillance feed and the bruises you sported. 

She giggled as she pushed you down on the bed, removing the robe you had. Her hands wandered your body, pressing on the bruises, her nails digging on the wounds, and her tongue licking the blood running free on your skin. You squirmed under her hold, getting her more excited.

“You simply amaze me doll,” Tyreen said, pressing her nude body against yours, “Even outnumbered, in the middle of the day, you manage to take down your prey. Just watching the fight…” She captured your lips in a hungry kiss, moaning. You whimpered when she dug her nails on your hips, still aching from kicks the assailants landed there. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll heal you… Can’t have my little doll break down on me so soon,” Tyreen said, parting for air, licking your cheek, “You’ve been entertaining me with your fights.” You gasped when she brought her hands to your neck, slightly kneading with her fingertips, her Siren hand glowing. You shut your eyes, hissing at the hot sensation. Tyreen teased your skin, humming as she started healing your cuts and bruises.

Little by little and one by one, your skin was free from the fresh injuries. Tyreen nuzzled your cheek, satisfied, “Good as new…Now rest, okay?” You nodded, wishing you were back in your hut. Tyreen got comfortable next to you, an arm around your waist, spooning you. She pressed her forehead against your back, sighing. Tyreen dozed off, still holding you. By your part, you were having a hard time sleeping, anxious with her nearby.

\-------0000000-------

Tyreen rolled over in her bed, smacking the spot next to her with her hand. She patted the area several times, frowning in her sleep before waking up. She blinked, noticing the large empty spot. Glancing around, she rubbed her face, realizing her mistake.

You weren’t there with her. 

Huffing, she sat up, fixing her night gown. Two days had passed from the last Let’s Flay fight, Tyreen leaving you behind in the medical room after punishing you. Two long days for the Calypso, the nights bringing nightmares of your screams. Tyreen remained in her bed, staring in the distance. 

/You’re going to regret this Tyreen!/ She didn’t. She had to teach you a lesson. You are her plaything. And you had been disobedient, refusing to go through with her orders in the arena.

Troy had stormed off from the main stronghold that same night, no one hearing from him since then. Tyreen couldn’t send out a search party for him, fearing that the cultists would find out there was trouble with the higher-ups. The CoV outposts hadn’t reported anything of his arrival.

Tyreen growled, getting off the bed, making her way to her bathroom. All of these were minor inconveniences, soon to pass. 

She hoped.

\-----000000-------

The twins stood in front of Steele, looking down at the floor, refraining from meeting her gaze. She kept pacing back and forth, glancing at a digital tablet in her hand.

“I’m very impressed, these readings are quite well for your age, sister,” Steele said, stopping in front of Tyreen, “Your powers have been manifesting at an alarming rate, the little crystals you produce contain bursts of energy…”

Tyreen hiccupped, still looking down. Troy hadn’t moved, but he was shaking. Steele smirked, patting Tyreen on the head, “There’s no need to be afraid, as long as you obey, everything will be fine. Your brother will be fine. Your mother will be fine…”

The door to the examination room hissed open, Hephaestus stepping in, a hardened expression on his face. Steele stood up, growling, “Hephaestus.”

“Steele,” Hephaestus started, eye twitching, “I see you’ve been busy with my absence….” The twins immediately darted to Hephaestus, hiding behind him. Steele shot them a look of disgust. The man glanced behind him, the twins grabbing on to his lab coat. 

“I’ve read the reports, you have the fucking nerve….” Hephaestus spat out, “Using Troy and the soldiers for your twisted experiments!” He clenched his fists, glaring at Steele. 

“The higher-ups have demanded for results that you haven’t delivered! Your mother would be disappointed-“ Steele dodged a wrench, the item crashing into a display shelf with medical equipment. The twins yelped, stepping away from Hephaestus.

“Don’t. Fucking. Mention. Her.” Hephaestus snarled, his sharp teeth showing, “If I hear another fucking mention of Supreme Commander Gaia from you… I swear….” He slammed his fist on a nearby computer console, breaking it. The twins eyed him and then at Steele.

“Hmph…” the pale Siren muttered, composing herself, “You can take them, I’m done for the day.” 

Hephaestus huffed, rubbing his injured hand. He turned to face the twins, giving them a smile, “Let’s go, your mother is worried sick.” The twins nodded, grabbing his hands, exiting the room. After stepping in the hallway, Hephaestus took a deep breath.

“I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to explode like that with you two in the room,” Hephaestus apologized, “I’m not like that, I promise.”

“Its okay…” Troy said, low, holding to Hephaestus’ uninjured hand, “I get angry too..”

Tyreen tugged at Hephaestus’s other hand, her Siren powers activating, healing the cuts and bruises, “It’s okay, mister…” The man was quiet as he watched Tyreen heal him, worried. She chirped after she was done, smiling up at him. He gave her a small smile back, lifting his hand up, moving his fingers around.

Her powers were growing too fast.

“If only you could fix the doll you broke,” Troy muttered. Tyreen sneered at him. Hephaestus motioned for them to walk, sighing. Another predicament awaited them back in the cell room. 

\-----00000------

Snip, snip, snip, snip, snip.

Tyreen cut through several rose petals, watching them fall in a small dish with white paste and oils. She grabbed another rose, cutting more petals and throwing the stems behind her. With a pestle, she grounded the petals into the mixture, hearing the delicate petals break apart.

Crush, crush, crush, crush.

SNAP.

She stopped, looking around. The snapping noise didn’t come from her workbench. Shaking her head, she resumed her work, snipping more rose petals to add to the mixture.

Snip, snip, snip, snip, SNAP.

Tyreen slammed her fists on the workbench, growling. She turned around, glaring. 

“Whoever is doing that, stop it!” she shouted, getting agitated. Her flowers simply stared back. She snarled, causing them to flinch away. Frustrated, Tyreen rubbed her face, standing up.

“I-I.. damnit…” she muttered, noticing the grass below her bare feet wilting. 

Her garden was reacting to her volatile emotions. 

She stood there, staring at the ground, the grass growing darker, blackened and crumbling to dust. The discarded rose stems were crystallizing, then snapping, the source of the noise. Tyreen barely caught on that she was breathing heavily, gripping tight the scissors in her hand. 

SNAP. 

Another rose stem crystallized, snapping in half. Like bones. Like your bones. Tyreen shook her head, trying to push away those memories. Your screams haunted her. 

SNAP.

She wasn’t sure if she had broken anything.

SNAP.

She only remembered digging into your stab wounds, slapping you, kicking you.

Stomping. 

SNAP.

A small hiss brought her back to reality. Droplets of blood had landed on her bare feet, the wilting grass eagerly reaching to it, slowly growing back. Tyreen had been gripping the scissors too tight, cutting herself on the sharp edges. She tossed the scissors aside, flicking her hand. Several plants reached out, hoping to catch some of the blood. She held her hand up, her Siren powers activating to heal the cuts. 

To burn your cuts. To make your blood boil. Like her anger. Her anger towards you. 

SNAP. 

Tyreen went back to her workbench, making a mental note to turn on the water sprinklers to feed the plants. As she resumed her work, her hands started to shake while trying to pour the mixture into a small container. Growling, she threw the items down, cursing when it splattered over the wooden workbench. 

She grabbed several pieces of cloth from a wicker basket, trying to clean up the mess. While cleaning, she noticed the mixture had landed on a particular part of the workbench. In the corner, she had drawn with some red dye a caricature of you with a scowl, next to it was a rendition of her with a smile, little hearts adorning. Tyreen traced the drawings, remembering the day she made them: After your first Let’s Flay arena fight. 

She recalled your anger towards her and Troy, finding out that you were to be her ‘plaything,’ forced to fight in the arena, and rejecting her advances. Your anger didn’t matter to her, you were only a plaything, nothing more. Tyreen admitted to that she found herself attracted to the way you’d fight and dominate your prey, the brief glances of bloodlust adorning your face, and the way you’d submit to her behind closed doors. 

SNAP.

Tyreen closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. The little moans of pleasure, the soft bites, the feeling of your skin against hers, hands wandering around, you screaming her name out as you orgasmed from her touch-

SNAP, SNAP, SNAP.

Screams of pain as she dug into your stab wounds, kicked you, slapped you.

Stomped you.

Tyreen jumped when she heard a ping in her EchoNet device. A message from Basil reminding her of a meeting. She quickly replied, glancing down at the drawing.

Your face was smudged off.

\------00000--------

One of the sacred places in the CoV main stronghold was the cathedral where the sermons were held, sacrifices were made, and the illustrious Father Troy would appear to ‘bless’ the cultists. Tyreen wasn’t into the whole church thing, but Troy had to push her to appear from time to time to keep up the godly persona as a way to keep the cultists united. Whenever it became too much for her, she’d wander back to her own sacred place.

Her private garden.

Like Troy with his mechanic shop, she never let others enter her private garden, it was her own space to be herself… to be Tyreen Calypso, not the God Queen. Plus, she’s been finding herself more and more lost in her garden after the events of the last Let’s Flay and what had transpired in the medical room. 

As she made her way back to the Surveillance Room, she observed the cultists going about their daily routine, her eyes falling on a pair of bandits sitting and holding hands by the main fountain under the statues of her and Troy. She found herself staring at them as they talked, one of them leaning forward to give the other a kiss. 

Tyreen felt her heart skip a beat, grimacing. 

SNAP, SNAP.

She liked holding your hand, seeing the small cuts and scars adorning them, hearing you talking about how you got them from the shop while working on projects. The rare few times you’d genuinely talk to her. She missed those small moments.

The bandit couple left the area, holding hands as they disappeared into the crowd. Tyreen was about to depart when she froze in place. 

You were walking down the main square, hunched over and holding your side. From her viewing point, she could see the dark marks around your neck. The ones she left. 

SNAP, SNAP, SNAP. 

Those that stood in your way quickly moved, your demeanor frightening them. Tyreen knew it was the middle of the day, you probably were kicked out of the warehouse for your current condition. She could easily follow you back to your hut, check up on you, but she refrained. Eventually you’d have to seek out help from the infirmary. You always did. 

Tyreen left, believing everything was going back to normal.

\--------00000000---------

The generals were present at their seats, Tyreen was sitting in her throne, scowling at the content displayed on the screens. Next to her, Troy’s spot remained empty. 

“The Crimson Raiders have been attacking several Pandoran outposts, we were able to rebuff them with little casualties from our side,” Donovan explained, bringing up mugshots of several Crimson Raider soldiers, “We captured several of their captains, the Pandoran affiliates await your orders on them.”

“Interrogate them, see what they cough up,” Tyreen ordered, resting her chin on her hand, “Anything in the EchoNet forums?”

“Nothing, surprisingly,” Basil said, bringing up the forums and the chats, “No word from our mystery friend. Not sure if that’s good or not…”

“What about Troy,” Tyreen said, glancing to her side, Troy’s empty spot taunting everyone. 

“He hasn’t reported anything back to us…” Moksha said, “The nearby outposts haven’t sent word of his arrival either…” Tyreen growled, clenching her fist.

“Figures… Have the outposts be on the alert and keep tabs on him should he drop by. I want to know when he arrives here or elsewhere,” Tyreen ordered. She was going to scold him for being reckless and leaving without a group to look after him. Moksha nodded, sending out the message.

“Any word from Maliwan?” Tyreen asked, going through the warehouse gun stock reports.

“They will be delivering a new shipment of weapon parts soon,” Donovan reported, “We’ve already sent out a scout group to meet up for the delivery point.”

“Excellent,” Tyreen said, smirking. Soon the CoV guns will be upgraded with elemental attributes, increasing the wrecking force of her troops.

Everything was going back to normal.

\----0000000---

Hephaestus inspected the doll, frowning. He had been informed by Leto of the twin’s fight about the toy. He hadn’t expected to find the doll in a bad shape.

Leto ushered the twins in front of her, both of them a bit scared. Hephaestus glanced at them, setting the doll down, “Why did you tear the doll apart?”

“It was Tyreen!” Troy said, pointing at Tyreen, “It was my turn to play with it….” He clenched his fists, growling.

“It was not me!” Tyreen hissed out, “You were hogging the doll!” She stomped her foot down in anger.

“Did not!”

“Were too!”

“Did not!”

“Were too!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Hephaestus said, “You two can’t be fighting with each other, come on. I gave the doll so you two could share it, not fight over it.” He shook his head in disappointment, the twins growing quiet, whimpering. Leto had her hands on the twins’ shoulders, preparing for the next part.

“Well, I’ll be taking the doll, seems like it will be best to stop the fighting,” Hephaestus said, grabbing the doll.

“N-No!” the twins shouted, Leto holding them back.

“Its okay, you have other toys to play with,” Hephaestus opened his tool box, putting the doll inside. The twins began to cry, grabbing to their mother, pleading.

“Mummy!” Troy cried out.

“He’s taking the doll..!” Tyreen wailed. 

“I’ve told you numerous times to share,” Leto said, patting them on their heads.

“W-We’ll fix it!” Troy said, now tugging at Hephaestus’ arm, “W-We’ll fix it!”

“We’ll fix it!” Tyreen repeated, “P-Please, may we have the doll? Don’t take it away…”

They did have numerous toys, all of them abandoned in their little corner of the room. The doll gifted by Hephaestus held more sentimental value for them. It had eased their frights at night, helped them cope with the awful examinations by the Atlas doctors, and was a friend whenever the twins needed a break from each other, listening to their worries. 

“What do you think, Leto?” Hephaestus asked, the twins looking at their mother, sobbing. Leto avoided their gaze, a tiny smile on her lips, “If they want to fix it, I’ll allow it. No help from me or mister Hephaestus.”

The man chuckled, liking the idea, “Well, I suppose I can work with that.” He opened his tool box again. The doll and its missing parts were laid out on a metal tray, alongside some thread spools and needles.

“I’ll only show you how to prep the needle and thread, plus the first stitch,” Hephaestus said, holding up a small needle and a red thread spool, “After that, you two need to mend it, okay?”

The twins nodded, waiting, “O-Okay!” They watched as Hephaestus threaded the needle, initiating the first stitch. Leto looked on, smiling.

The twins were determined to fix their mistake. 

\----000000-----

Two days passed and Tyreen was growing restless. No word from Troy had arrived from their Promethea outposts or his current EchoNet device. So far, cultists hadn’t approached the subject about the missing Father Troy from the sermons, other priests taking over for the time being. For now, she left it as is, the generals on the lookout for any signs in their own devices. 

“My God Queen?”

Tyreen blinked, staring at the priest addressing her, “Uh, yeah? What again?”

“We have delivered the items you requested to your room,” the priest informed, bowing, “Is there anything else I may assist you with?”

“Notify Prophet Moksha that I will be conducting a warehouse inspection in an hour or so,” Tyreen informed, biting her finger. Troy would be the one to conduct them since he was the one supplying the blueprints for the gun production.

“As you wish,” the priest said, bowing and retreating. Tyreen looked around, the courtyard in the Calypsos’ living quarters empty of activity. Troy would normally lounge in the area, scaring the priests or talking to the generals.

Or he’d be with Helen, both of them sitting by the fountain, holding hands. Like the bandits she had seen. Holding hands, just the way she did with you, admiring the marks on your skin. 

Tyreen approached the fountain, staring down at the small fish swimming about. The small creatures were oblivious to the danger looming over as the fountain water began to boil, slowly cooking them, before purple crystals crushed their tiny bodies. Stepping back, Tyreen walked away as the crystals grew in size, breaking the fountain. 

SNAP, SNAP, SNAP.

Everything was going back to normal. 

That’s what she kept repeating to herself.

\----00000----

Surveillance Camera #20

The view is of the Calypsos’ main living quarters’ inner courtyard. Tyreen is seen walking away from the broken fountain, more crystals erupting, breaking apart. 

Surveillance Camera #10

Perseus is seen walking in and out of the warehouse, agitated. The other mechanics appear unnerved. Some of them follow him out of view of the camera.

Surveillance Camera #13

Armed cultists are patrolling the area near your housing complex, they stop Perseus and the mechanics from venturing further, pointing their guns at them. Perseus is seen shouting, being held back by the mechanics. They drag him away before the armed cultists get angry. 

Surveillance Camera #11

Jackal is seen sitting in his study, holding Helen’s ceremonial daggers. He’s crying, shoulders shaking as he breaks down. In anger, he throws the daggers on the floor, covering his face.

Surveillance Camera #14

Donovan is seen near his living quarters, cleaning his guns. He stops, slowly turning to face the camera, smirking.

\-----0000----

Leto and Hephaestus observed with curiosity at the twins who were engrossed in stitching up the arms and legs of the doll. Both had expected for the twins to start fighting on how to approach fixing the doll, only to be surprised by Troy and Tyreen starting on opposite sides. 

Troy was more methodical, measuring the thread and estimating the gaps for the stitching. Tyreen on the other hand, was all over place, mending the arms and legs with overlapping stitching, poking her finger several times with the needle. However, when it came to fixing the doll’s red flowers on her dress, she was more careful, adjusting the fabric and sewing the pieces to mimic the folds of petals. Troy helped by patching up the holes of the torn white fabric of the dress. 

“Wow, they really want to keep the doll, huh,” Hephaestus said, tilting his head, “I wanted to bring two, but the higher-ups only allowed for one.”

“They love the doll,” Leto mentioned, smiling as the twins kept working, “Before we were… brought here… my husband had actually made dolls for them for when they were born. He said when he’d come back home from his work, he’d give the dolls to them… That was before he went missing and our house was destroyed…”

Hephaestus frowned, knowing about the story. The Crimson Lance, led by Steele, had managed to find Tyreen as a fledgling Siren, destroying the village where the family hailed from to get rid of witnesses. 

“Just be patient, we’ll be out soon,” he whispered, Leto nodding. She looked at the twin nervous. 

Troy threaded a needle as Tyreen placed the patches of the doll’s hair on its head. Patient, she held it down as her brother began sewing. A few more stitches later, the doll was fixed, the twins clapping. They each grabbed an arm, running towards Hephaestus and Leto.

“We fixed it!” they chirped, grinning.

“Oh, you did!’ Hephaestus said, kneeling down to view the doll. The misshapen doll stared back with its beady eyes, arms and legs at different lengths and part of the hair lopsided. Leto smiled, patting the twins on the head. 

“You two managed to work together to fix it up, always remember you need to have each other’s back,” Hephaestus informed, poking the doll’s face, “Its easy to break things, but takes double the effort to mend it, keep that in mind.”

Tyreen and Troy looked at each other and then at the doll. This was the first time both of them fixed a toy. 

“May we keep it?” they asked.

“Yeah, take good care of her, okay?” Hephaestus grinned. The twins gave him a toothy smile.

\------000000------

Surveillance Camera #20

Jackal approaches the warehouse, a small bag is tied on his belt. Perseus and the other mechanics almost collide with him. They are seen talking to Jackal, pleading. They point inside, Jackal glancing. Perseus holds up two fingers up, he’s angry, stomping his foot. They all talk for a while before Jackal departs the area, hurrying up. The warehouse supervisor scolds them, ushering them back inside the building.

Surveillance Camera #21

Tyreen is seen walking in the warehouse, arms behind her back as the warehouse inspector guides her around, showing a display of new guns. Perseus, at this workbench, is glaring at her from a distance. Other mechanics dissuade him from making a scene. 

Surveillance Camera #13

Jackal approaches the armed cultists who let him through. The camera switches to the inner area of the housing complex. Jackal knocks several times on the door of your hut, then looks through the window trying to get a glimpse. He takes out a key, opens the door, walking inside. Time passes by before medics rush in. Jackal walks out, agitated and on the verge of crying. The medics come out, carrying you in a stretcher, covered by a bloody blanket. You look extremely pale, dry blood present around your mouth.

Surveillance Camera #17

Several mechanics are startled by a bandit technical rushing in, Troy jumping out of the vehicle, running off. 

Surveillance camera #40

Troy is seen shoving cultists aside, heading into the infirmary. The inside view has Jackal getting spooked by his sudden appearance. The priest then glares at Troy, starts yelling at him, pointing at the door where Pip comes out from. Jackal storms off to the side as Pip talks to Troy who rubs his face. 

\------0000000-------

Perseus, concerned, had informed Jackal who came to visit the warehouse looking for you, that you hadn’t gone to work for two days. He relayed the extent of your injuries to him. Normally Jackal would shrug and be on his merry way, but he knew something was horribly wrong if armed cultists were blocking the path into the housing complex. As far as he knew, the Calypsos hadn’t ordered guards at your place. He was alarmed when he saw the small group, although they let him pass by.

Jackal ventured over to your hut and knocked and knocked, but no answer from your end. He rattled the door knob a few times. Last resort, he took out a master key, unlocking. He entered, looking around your place. The stench of blood was evident in the air. Your clothes from the fight were still in the floor, bloody footprints leading into your bedroom. 

“Oh no….” he whispered, rushing into the bedroom. Jackal saw the lump on the bed, quickly puling at the sheets, gasping. 

You laid there curled up, pale, bruised. Delirious, you gazed up at him, “Are you death…? Oh, finally…” Your voice was hoarse. The bruises had turned green, you were shaking. Your pillows were stained with dry blood. 

“Child, oh no, what has she done to you?!” Jackal placed a hand on your forehead. You were burning up. He took out his EchoNet device, “I need assistance in the North Housing complex, ASAP, ping my location.”

He went to the bathroom, grabbing towels and soaking them up. The bloody mess in there shocked him. He rushed back, placing the wet towels on your forehead. 

“Come on, come on… Hang in there,” he pleaded. You let out a small whine, your body welcoming the cool feeling, “Death is nice…”

“I’m not Death,” he whispered, cleaning up your bloody face, “It’s me, Jackal.”

“Jackal huh…” you said, slipping in and out, “Tell Tyreen I said to go fuck herself...” You finally passed out. Maybe now you’d meet Helen, both of you laughing at how shitty your luck was and how she beat you in death.

\------000000--------

You have (2) new message in your inbox.

[Image automatically opens, revealing the still image from the surveillance camera showing you being taken away by medics.]

[Second file sent is a video displaying the inside of the infirmary. The medics are seen working on stabilizing you, Pip barging in and assessing the damages. There’s a lot of blood on the infirmary floor. You are seen thrashing in pain against the medics, Pip sedates you.]

???: You and the God Queen will pay for hurting her.

???: Master may be holding back, but I won’t. 

\------000000---------

The warehouse inspection went without trouble, although Tyreen was informed you hadn’t shown up to work for the day. This didn’t alarm her, it was normal for you to take days off after an arena fight or whenever she’d get rough on you. Sooner or later, you’d show up. She shrugged it off, but couldn’t help glancing at your empty workbench when she was inspecting the guns and bandit technicals. 

Despite the busy environment in the warehouse, Tyreen was aware of Perseus’s sneering and glaring every time she’d pass by his working area. When she tried to catch him in the act, he’d be working, gaze averted. She figured his current behavior was due to being banned from getting near you. Her jealousy was still present, but refrained from lashing out in the middle of the warehouse. After doing another thorough inspection, she left the premises, going back to her living quarters. 

Back in her room, the items left by the priest were neatly placed in a box. Excited, Tyreen gently picked the garment up, checking it out. The black jacket was adorned with purple lettering ‘CALYPSO’ on the back, the sleeves dyed with purple and red, blending with the black fabric. She took out some black fingerless gloves with purple on the palm section, grinning.

“I wonder if she’ll like them…” Tyreen said, setting them down on her bed, “The other was stained and cut badly…” In your own and Helen’s blood. 

She smiled as she folded the garments, placing it back in the box. Imaging you in them, Tyreen felt giddy. You’d be sporting her colors instead of a combination of hers and Troy’s. Putting the box on top of her vanity, she ventured out to the main hall, noticing a priest waiting for her. She took her place in the throne, eyeing him. She checked her surveillance feeds, noticing Troy’s bandit technical in the main garage complex.

“Has Troy arrived?” Tyreen asked, slightly annoyed, not looking up from her display. She had ordered to be notified about his arrival. The priest fidgeted in his spot, “Y-Yes, Father Troy has arrived, my God Queen…” Maybe that was the reason for the priest present.

She glanced down at him from her throne, “Where is he then?”

“In the infirmary… ma’am…” the priest gulped.

Tyreen sat up straight, “In the infirmary? I wasn’t informed of him being injured.” She was hoping he didn’t do something stupid wherever he was during the past four days.

“O-Oh.. no… he’s not…” the priest replied, clasping his hands together. The priest’s odd behavior was irritating her.

“Whatever, fetch Jackal, I need him to retrieve my plaything,” Tyreen waved off at the priest. By now, your anger towards her should have gone away or lessen.

“A-About that, my God Queen… Priest Jackal is in the infirmary… as well..” the priest felt he was going to collapse anytime soon. 

“What?” Tyreen now got up, descending down the steps towards the priest, “Fine, you go fetch my plaything….” She was aware Jackal may not like you after what happened to Helen. If he wanted to stay in good graces with her, he’d have to swallow his pride and get over it.

“O-On that…” the priest yelped when Tyreen snarled.

“Now what?!” Tyreen shouted, glaring at him. She was not in the mood for little games.

“S-She’s in the infirmary as well… Prophet Pip is conducting an emergency operation on her…” the priest confessed, watching as Tyreen’s eyes widened, “She was found unresponsive a few hours ago in her hut…” 

“What…” Tyreen said, staring at the priest, “Why was I not-“ 

Troy.

She shoved the priest aside, rushing out the main throne room, spooking the Badass Psychos guarding the entrance. Barging out of the building, she sped walk towards the infirmary, fear creeping on her. The cultists got out of her way, wondering what was getting their God Queen riled up. Tyreen thought everything was fine. That everything was getting back to normal.

You were fine a few days ago. She had seen you walk around. What had happened? Why didn’t you see out medical help like before?

She stepped into the infirmary, her heart racing when she heard screaming. 

Yours. 

The same screams that had been haunting her for the past days. 

Tyreen dashed down the hallways, pushing medics out of the way. Troy and Jackal were outside one of the operating rooms, the priest covering his ears, distressed, while Troy was livid. 

“Where is- AH!” Tyreen yelped as Troy grabbed her by the arm, snarling.

“This is your fucking fault!” Troy yelled, “YOU DID THIS TO HER!” He shoved her away, growling. 

“B-But.. what…“ Tyreen was lost, “H-How…w-what happened?”

“Jackal found her…” Troy hissed out, “Half way dead in her bed…” Tyreen looked at the priest who was glaring at her.

Pip walked out of the operating room, his gown covered in blood, the screaming ceasing. The twins managed to get a glimpse inside the room. The medics were cleaning up, your stomach and part of your chest visible, a large deep purple bruise covered the area. One of the medics was cleaning your face, 

“Fucking shit… managed to get her stabilized with that cracked rib… For some reason, she has a high tolerance to morphine, couldn’t get her to knock out until a few more shots,” Pip said, addressing Troy, barely noticing Tyreen, “Oh shit… You’re here.”

“C-Cracked.. rib..?” Tyreen asked, gulping. She had kicked you several times. 

SNAP, SNAP, SNAP.

She had healed some of your wounds.

SNAP, SNAP, STOMP, SNAP.

She wasn’t sure if she broke something.

SNAP, STOMP, STOMP, SNAP.

She heard Troy deeply inhale, then punched the wall. Jackal looked on shocked.

“She’s been bleeding internally for the past days… I’d say since… you know,” Pip gestured with his hand, “The arena fight…” The medic general was blunt about it.

You had been walking around, still working, and then left the warehouse with your injuries. 

“Not the stab wound…?” Tyreen whispered. She was hoping it was that. 

STOMP. SNAP. STOMP.

Pip shook his head, glancing at the seething Troy.

“No… you did this to her…” Troy said, glaring menacingly at her, “Helen had no part in it…”

\-----000000------

Troy was sitting by your bedside, gaze low. Tyreen was at the other side, staring down at you. It was a day after the surgery and you hadn’t woken up. You were breathing heavily, slightly wheezing even with the help of the oxygen mask. The bruising from the day before got worse, any slight touches causing you to squirm and gasp for air. For now, you were under a sedative. 

“I-I… I didn’t know…” Tyreen said. She was berating herself for not checking up on you when she had the chance.

SNAP.

“Shut up,” Troy hissed out.

She turned to look at him, meeting his glare, “T-Troy…”

“I said shut up! I don’t want to fucking hear you right now….” Troy muttered, “I don’t want to hear your fucking excuses…” Troy lifted your gown, growling at the sight of the large bruise. 

Tyreen looked away, not wanting to see the offending mark. 

“It wasn’t fucking enough ordering to kill Helen… it wasn’t fucking enough beating the mechanic up… Nothing is ever enough for you, isn’t it Tyreen? It always has to be about you…” Troy said without looking at Tyreen, setting the gown down. Frustrated, he pulled at his own hair, snarling.

“T-Troy…” Tyreen pleaded. 

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” Troy shouted, clenching his fists, “SHUT UP, SHUT UP! GET OUT! OUT!”

“If you aren’t quiet as well, Troy, I’m kicking you out too.”

“Shut your fucking mouth too, Pip….” Troy turned to face Pip, who walked into your room.

“This is my infirmary, I’ve been put in charge of taking care of her for the wellbeing of the Children of the Vault,” Pip said, throwing his EchoNet device at Troy who caught it, “Otherwise, we would have all died.”

Troy looked down at the screen.

.: CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED

.:???: You better save her life lest you want the whole place to burn down.

“When did you-?” Troy returned the device to Pip, staring at him.

“I’m assuming when priest Jackal found her and alerted the medics. Your mystery friend has access still to our surveillance I presume?” Pip asked, “Not that it matters, she has answers about how she repaired your back, can’t have her croaking. Besides, how did you know?”

Troy clenched his fists, “I got a message too. I hurried back as fast as I could.” He glared at Tyreen, “Another shit sent me a video of the surveillance when medics took her out of the hut.”

Tyreen took out her own device, nothing displayed. Despite she was the one who had inflicted the wounds, she didn’t receive a message. Had that Master individual refrained from sending her messages in order to scare her later on? 

“S-So what now…?” Tyreen asked, gulping. Her hands were shaking as she noticed the bruising on your arms.

“Its up to her now if she wants to wake up,” Pip said, shaking his head, “We have to wait.”

Troy grabbed your hand, giving it a light squeeze. Your hands were cold to his warm touch. Tyreen tried to approach you but was met with resistance from Troy.

“Back off!” he growled, hunching over you, “You did fucking enough, back off!” Tyreen yelped, surprised by Troy’s yelling. 

“Troy…” Pip grabbed Troy’s hand, easing his grip on yours, “Be careful with her…” 

“The one that has to be careful here is Tyreen,” Troy spat out, “You better stay the fuck away from her!” 

“Troy, let go of her hand,” Pip insisted, tugging at his arm, “Now. I WILL kick you out.” Troy let go, still glaring at Tyreen. She stepped back, hugging herself. 

The normalcy she sought was never coming back, destroyed by her own hands.

\------000000-------

The camera pans to a woman walking barefoot down a beach, the cityscape in the background glowing against the setting sun, the sky visible with the night stars. The woman’s white dress with red flowers dances with the breeze, giving a glimpse of some scars on her legs. She pauses, glancing at the camera. A laughter escapes her lips.

“What are you doing?” you ask, smiling. You are holding your sandals in one hand, resting the other hand on your hip as you give a disappointing look at the camera.

“Capturing your beauty,” a man’s voice was heard out of shot. You chuckle, shaking your head, “You are impossible, I swear.” You grin at his comment. The little cat-like grin.

“I’m not lying! Tell her, sweetie.” 

“Mommy is pretty!” a child’s voice was heard. You shyly look away, laughing. A child appears into the camera’s view, clinging to your legs. She’s wearing a similar dress to you, her green hair tied up in a messy pony tail. The little girl giggles as you pick her up, twirling and giving her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Okay, okay, I guess I am pretty…” You said, “Two against one, not fair!” The camera stabilizes, the Maliwan man enters the view. He’s wearing a plain short-sleeved green shirt and black shorts. He hugs you and the girl while telling you something, causing you to laugh and the girl to giggle. The child looks away in mock disgust as the man and you kiss, covering her eyes.

The video cuts to a dim dining room, the camera focusing on a brightly lit birthday cake, the little girl eagerly waiting as you enter the shot. 

“Happy Birthday, sweetie!” you clap, the little girl squealing as she hesitantly leaned forward to blow out the candles from the cake. A candle refused to go out, the little girl trying numerous times before succeeding. 

“Yay, you did it!” the Maliwan man enters the shot, hugging the little girl, “What did you wish for?” You give him a stern look, “You can’t ask that! Or else it won’t come true.”

The girl covered her mouth, muffling a laugh, but then she grinned, “I wish for mummy to win her next fight!” You and the man look at her, blinking.

“Oh…” you reply, rubbing your arm. There were more scars present there. You were expecting something kid wise like wishing for a diamond pony.

“Your mummy will win the fight for sure, sweetie,” the Maliwan man assured the little girl who noticed your unease, “Right, dear?” You nodded, smiling at them. She tugged at your arm, the man bringing the three of you into a tight embrace.

“I want cake…” you mutter. The man and the girl laughed.

The video cuts with you tucking in the little girl who is asleep in her bed, kissing her forehead before stepping out of her room. A small robot chirps beside her, flickering lights that display hearts and unicorns of different colors. The camera follows you out to the balcony, the wind picking up your hair. A soft jazzy melody starts to play as you chuckle, turning around.*

_Put your head on my shoulder_  
_Hold me in your arms, baby_  
_Squeeze me oh-so-tight_  
_Show me that you love me too_

The Maliwan man approaches you, extending his hand out. 

“May I have this dance?” he asks, smiling.

_Put your lips next to mine, dear_  
_Won't you kiss me once, baby?_  
_Just a kiss goodnight, maybe_  
_You and I will fall in love_

“Yes,” you reply, grabbing his hand. The music keeps playing as you and the man slow dance. You rest your head on his shoulder, enjoying the moment. You felt safe. You felt loved. 

He had declared this song as yours and his.

He wanted to use it for the eventual wedding, he said. You felt your heart swell. 

_People say that love's a game_  
_A game you just can't win_  
_If there's a way_  
_I'll find it somebody_  
_And then this fool will rush in_

“Want to know my birthday wish?” the man asks, slightly dipping you. Giggling, you shake your head, teasing, “It won’t come true if you tell me.”

The man lets out a small laugh, “I’m telling you either way… I want to spend the rest of my days with you and our little girl…” You shyly look up at him, meeting his gaze. He leans forward, kissing you as you embrace him. The music keeps playing. You felt complete. You had finally found your family. A man who loved you. A daughter who loved you as her mother. 

All the suffering you went through was only a small speck in the back of your mind. The little monster in your mind was enamored, smitten. 

_Put your head on my shoulder_  
_Whisper in my ear, baby_  
_Words I want to hear_  
_Tell me, tell me that you love me too_

“I love you,” you whisper, parting for air.

“I love you more,” the man whispers back, his eyes full of hope.

All was well. You were home.

Everything was back to normal.

\------000000-------

A few days passed, your health improved slightly, although you hadn’t woken up yet. Pip routinely checked your bruised-up side and stiches, informing the twins that it was healing well. Troy had stayed by your side, but was kicked out by Pip in order for the Calypso to attend back to his duties in the CoV as the cultists were now becoming aware that something odd was happening with the twins. 

This pissed of Troy, but relented, ordering Pip to keep him updated of your status. Tyreen, by her part, would visit with Pip supervising her as she healed you.

“You fucked her up, Tyreen,” Pip stated, gently pressing down on some bruises to assess the pain. You flinched, whimpering.

Tyreen was quiet, grimacing as you whimpered more when Pip removed the bandages from your arms, redressing them with new ones. She tried to keep focus while healing you.

“This isn’t like you. You’d normally kill them, your playthings,” Pip continued, discarding the old bandages. He began cleaning your face and neck with a wet cloth, “I know we have that situation with that online jerk and that creature in the morgue…” He noticed Tyreen holding your hand, the Siren Calypso biting her lip. 

“Huh… I see,” Pip finished cleaning your face, “I’m not judging you, but where I’m from, we don’t beat up people we fall in love with.” Tyreen took a deep breath, a single tear escaping. 

“I-I…” she said, trailing off. The jealousy got to her. Everything from Troy getting hurt, her powers nullified… everything spiraling out of control.

“Just focus on healing her before Troy arrives and makes a scene,” Pip said, sighing. He now saw why Donovan was fed up with the Calypsos’ obsession with you. Luckily for you, Pip felt you were better off alive for the cult’s sake.

\-------0000000------

The video cuts to the little girl pointing at a cage, turning a few times to face the camera. She seems excited about something. There are other people around her wearing fancy clothes, they are all facing the cage area, gasping and cheering. Sounds of whipping are heard, bones crushing and someone screaming. 

“Mummy is going to win this one!” the little girl announced. This caught the attention of another child in the area, glaring at her, “No she won’t, my dad’s fighter is going to win!”

The little girl stuck her tongue out at him, “My mummy is undefeated!” 

“Now, now, sweetie, what have I said about manners?” a man’s voice asks. 

“Better to hold your tongue than to say something mean?” the little girl replied, unsure. Chuckling was heard, a hand appearing from the side to ruffle her hair, “Oh, you! Let’s keep watching, I think mummy is almost done.” The girl’s attention shifted to the arena, just in time to see a body smash against the cage. You were on the fighter’s back, pulling at the chains coiled around their neck.

“SUBMIT!” You hiss out, baring your fangs, your voice hoarse, full on bloodlust. You were wearing black tights under a crimson skirt, the backless shirt exposing your skin, displaying the scars from your fights. Around your ankles and wrists were black bands with silver plates, the chains digistructing from it. A heavy weight chain was around your neck.

“NEVER!” the fighter shouted, trying to knock you off their back. This further angered you, grabbing their head and chin, twisting it, the nasty crack of breaking neck bones echoing the area. Cackling, you ripped the head off clean, letting the blood bathe you. The crowd present, some of the corporate bigwigs, whooped, hollering praises as you held up high the head of the fighter. 

“Mummy won! Mummy won!” the little girl clapped, looking at the camera, “Papa! Mummy did it!” 

“Told you! Isn’t she special?” the man asked. The little girl nodded. You were seen in the background, hunched over, eyes wide as you approached them. Unfazed by your bloody appearance, the little girl begged to be picked up, “You did it mummy, thank you!” You didn’t respond, still staring ahead. A whistle and clicking is heard and you snap out of it, feeling a bit lost. 

“Mummy!” the little girl raised her hands up. You let out a small gasp, nodding as you picked her up. You give the camera a worried look.

\-------0000000-------

Hephaestus dropped his work bag and cases on his workbench, exhausted. The twins had driven him crazy with questions regarding you, despite Leto scolding them to keep quiet about the subject. They had noticed the stitching of “A” on the doll’s dress, the man caught up on the moment and telling them you had made the doll. At least he hoped with this information they wouldn’t destroy further the poor toy.

Before he could start fixing several items, you barged into the garage, laughing. 

“Hepha! You’re back! You look like shit!” you pounced on your brother, bringing him down. Hephaestus groaned, defeated as he laid on the floor, “Yep, I’m back, Shorty McShortyface! And what did I say about using foul language?!” You laughed more, hugging him, ignoring his question. You hadn’t seen him for a while, his odd jobs taking him to strange places. 

“So, what happened? Did the kids you work with like my little present?” you shoved another doll on his face, this one sporting one blue eye, purple and blue in color, and tentacles for legs, “I still say you should have gone with this one! The Destroyer! Woo!” Your brother eyed with worry the doll. He absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck, digging slightly into the skin. He shook off the fear creeping up on him. 

“You give your dolls the weirdest names,” Hephaestus teased, sitting up. You stuck your tongue out, then grinning, “It sounds badass!”

Your brother got up, helping you stand, “Sure, whatever you say shorty. Hey, you got your stuff ready?” 

“Wait, are you serious?” you stare at Hephaestus who was taking out items from his workbench drawers, “W-We are… leaving…?” Your brother nodded, patting your head.

“Yep, we’re heading to Pandora. Anywhere other than this shithole planet is better,” Hephaestus grinned, “Pack the essentials, we can’t take much, okay?” You nodded, excitement present in your eyes. 

“Y-Yes!” you said, giggling as you took off. Hephaestus chuckled, looking at his watch. A message was displayed.

.:MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

.:P. Juno: Take care of your sister, I love you both. I will continue working on GORTYS as they requested.

.:H. Juno: I leave it in your hands. I have notified Leto about the plan.

.:P.Juno: Be careful, my son. Steele has been more vigilant with Tyreen. I will do my best to cover your tracks.

\-------000000------

The video cuts, the angle of the shot off. There’s building debris everywhere, alarms going off, several small fires are seen at the distance. Several bodies are laying under a car on fire, a small child is laying face down.**

_I was five and he was six_  
_We rode on horses made of sticks ___  
_He wore black and I wore white_  
_He would always win the fight_

Screaming is heard as you rush in, picking up the child.

“NO! NO! NO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” you screamed, holding the little girl close to you, crying. 

“Mummy….” The little girl pleads, reaching out to you. Sobbing and shaking, you grab her hand, “N-No! N-No! I’m so sorry sweetie! I’m sorry!” 

The Maliwan man emerges from the billowing smoke, expression vacant as he is holding a gun. Several armed guards appear near him. He stops a few feet away, shooting a red-headed woman wearing a black business outfit who was weakly reaching out to him. 

“Sorry, this is only business,” the Maliwan man said. The armed guards shot the other occupants of the car, blood splattering everywhere.

_Bang bang, I shot you down_  
_Bang bang, you hit the ground_  
_Bang bang, that awful sound_  
_Bang bang, I used to shoot you down_

“She has no place for our future, dear,” the man said, reloading his pistol. He approached you, aiming the gun at the little girl. 

“Y-YOU FUCKING MONSTER! SHE IS YOUR DAUGHTER!” You shouted, stepping away from him as you desperately held the child. 

“Leave the body-“ You slapped him, shoving past him, disappearing into the smoke. He stays there, narrowing his eyes. The armed guards were about to chase you down.

“Don’t, unless you want to get killed,” the man replied, “Let her go.”

_Seasons came and changed the time_  
_When I grew up, I called him mine_  
_He would always laugh and say_  
_"Remember when we used to play?"_

The video cuts to you sitting at someone’s bedside, monitors beeping all around, wires hooked up on the panel by the bed. You are covering your face, sobbing, your body shaking, still covered in blood.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…. I’m so sorry….” You kept repeating. A small hand reaches yours.

“Mummy…” 

“I’m so sorry…. I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…” you kept going on and on. 

“It’s okay, mummy…”

“I’m so sorry…” you tried to grab the little hand, your hand going through it. A full hologram display of the little girl appears, she tries to hug you but disintegrates. This causes you to cry harder, desperately trying to embrace the child. 

“It’s okay, mummy….” The hologram glitches. 

“It’s not…” you whisper, “It’s not…” The little monster in your mind was screaming for vengeance. It wanted to spill blood. It wanted to tear everything apart in your path. 

k I l L t H e M a L l u N t I L y O u s E e r E D

_Now he's gone, I don't know why_  
_And 'till this day, sometimes I cry_  
_He didn't even say goodbye _  
_He didn't take the time to lie___

____

“Mummy has to go win the fight for you…” you whispered, limping away as the little girl’s hologram glitched.

\-------000000-------

Tyreen thrashed in her bed, grabbing her head, whimpering. She shot up from bed, frightened. Breathing heavily, she looked around in her room in fear. The nightmares with the jester creature and seeing Troy bloodied in her arms had resurfaced. Those were mixing in with the nightmares of your screams, seeing bruises covering up your entire body. Tyreen sobbed, getting out of bed. It was the middle of the night when she left her room, putting a robe on with a hood to make her way to the infirmary. 

The place was dead save for few medics who recognized her, bowing to her as she approached your room. Upon entering, she saw Jackal keeping guard over you.

“Jackal…” she said, stopping in her tracks by the door. 

“My God Queen,” he replied, standing up and bowing, “Odd hours to visit someone.” 

“I should be asking you that same question,” Tyreen said, narrowing her eyes, “You trying to get revenge for Helen? You put a hand on her-“

Jackal shook his head, “No. My daughter’s death has nothing to do with the plaything. I’m only here as a request from Prophet Pip.” Tyreen could see Jackal clenching his fists. He was still angry. 

“Right, I suppose that works… You are our messenger for my plaything…” Tyreen said, “You can step out.”

“With all due respect, my God Queen, I rather stay here while you heal her,” Jackal narrowed his eyes at her, “Prophet Pip’s request. You may talk to him to verify.”

Tyreen let out a small growl, walked over to your bed, “Fine, suit yourself.” She glanced down at you, your bruises taunting her. Some of them were healing up, others were still stubborn, remaining etched on your skin. She extended her Siren arm out, her tattoos glowing as she began healing. For the remainder of the night and into the morning, she kept going. Jackal remained by your side.

The morning sermon went on without its assigned priest.

\------0000000------

The video cuts to a shot of bodies with torn limbs covering the ground, everywhere is completely covered in blood. In the center of the room, you are on your knees, restrained in heavy duty chains and a muzzle on your face. You are screaming, thrashing about as Cepheus and a tall, bulky man hold two chains, each of them struggling to keep you still. You are completely drenched in blood, your soaked hair sticking to your face. ***

_Ain't no sunshine when she's gone_  
_It's not warm when she's away_  
_Ain't no sunshine when she's gone_  
_And she's always gone too long_  
_Anytime she goes away_

Cepheus takes out a taser, zaps you at the nape of your neck, causing you to screech out, head limping forward. Katagawa Jr. barges in, horrified as he looks at the scene.

“You better fix this shit! She killed my entire staff!” he yells at someone offscreen. He’s immediately surrounded by several armed guards, guns pointed at him. Katagawa immediately raises his hands in defense, afraid. Cepheus and the other man look at him in disgust.

“Don’t threaten Master in front of us…” one of the armed guards hisses out. 

The Maliwan man walks into view, fixing his gloves, “What have I said about proper etiquette, Katagawa? Don’t forget I’m the one allowing your family to retain control of Maliwan.” Katawaga bowed his head, hissing, “I’m aware, sir… Doesn’t excuse HER… from what she did…”

_Wonder this time where she's gone_  
_Wonder if she's gone to stay_  
_Ain't no sunshine when she's gone_  
_And this house just ain't no home_  
_Anytime she goes away_

You let out a growl, breathing heavily. The Maliwan man approaches you, kneeling, tilting your head up, “Dear, you made a big mess here. Perhaps a few days out of the city will clear your mind?” You snap your teeth at him, screeching and glaring at him. Cepheus zaps you again.

“Take her away, she needs to be reeducated again, Cepheus,” the Maliwan man ordered, patting your head, “I want her back in pristine condition, understood?” A broken toy could be fixed. 

Cepheus nodded, “Yes sir.” The tall man next to the Terror of the Waste bandit chuckled as he and Cepheus dragged you away. You are thrashing, screaming threats at the Maliwan man. Katagawa seems relieved when you are out sight. 

_Ain't no sunshine when she's gone_  
_Only darkness every day_  
_Ain't no sunshine when she's gone_  
_And this house just ain't no home_

The video cuts to the Maliwan man sitting on a regal chair, tossing up and down a blue globe in his hand. A woman approaches him, handing him some documents and an electronic device. She has a grim expression on her face. 

“She’s escaped, Master,” the woman informs, “The Rat King-“

_And I know, I know,_  
_Hey, I oughtta leave young thing alone_  
_But ain't no sunshine when she's gone_

“It’s fine,” the Maliwan man said, “She needs some time away from me, get her anger out. She’ll come back.” His voice is distant, cold. Tranquil fury. The woman bows, immediately leaving. He taps the globe on his hand, a hologram picture of him, you, and the little girl is shown. 

“Blue, I’m letting you out to play, but behave on the EchoNet and the other surveillance networks,” the man spoke to the globe, “Keep an eye out for mummy, alright, sweetie?”

A small :3 appeared on the globe, “Yes, Papa…”

_Anytime she goes away_  
_Anytime she goes away_

\---------0000000---------

Troy tinkered with a small metal object, glancing at you as he worked. You were able to breath normally, although you’d gasp for air once in a while, startling him. He had kicked out Tyreen, not wanting to see her near you. For once, she didn’t fight, leaving the infirmary. 

“I should have stayed…” Troy said, pausing his work, “I should have fucking stayed… checked up on you… instead I ran off…” He was met with silence.

“I just… It’s my fucking fault you ended up like this…” he continued, setting his project down on your bed, “I couldn’t stop Helen, I couldn’t stop Tyreen…” He brushed part of your hair to the side. You reacted to the touch, tensing up before relaxing. 

“You have to wake up, please,” Troy begged, lifting your hand to his cheek, “You saved my life, I need to repay you back…” Your fingertips twitched against his skin. The same one that mended his back. The same ones he longed to touch his own skin.

“I don’t know what’s going on with me…” he whispered, “I can’t get you out of my head. I haven’t felt like this in a long time… It frightens me…” He laid his head on your bed.

“Please wake up…” Troy pleaded again, his left arm flashing red bands, slowly feeding energy to you. He needed to find out more about this Master guy, the situation with Cepheus, and the triangle mark. Someone else was watching as well, posing danger to you. 

He had run away once, he wasn’t going to do it again.

\------000000------

The video cuts to an office, the Maliwan man is staring out into the city, hands resting on his back. The same jazz song from the birthday dinner is playing in the background. The man picks up a bottle of wine from a small tray with ice, throwing it across the office. Glass shattering is heard, the music stopping abruptly.

“Blue, what’s the status?” he asks, frustrated. The little girl’s hologram appears on the same globe from before, resting on the desk.

“Mummy has been captured by a group called the Children of the Vault,” she replied, her tone showing concern, “The Skullmashers were destroyed as part of a raid.”

Sounds of shouting and screaming are heard, Tyreen and Troy’s voice echoing the office. The Maliwan man glances backwards, watching the feed Blue was providing.

/”Welcome to another Let’s Flay, my amazing followers! Today’s play is special! We brought back the Plaything Series as you requested!” Tyreen lifted her arms up, fireworks sounding off around her./

/“We listened and got some new toys! These playthings have been working hard these past months to be on the top of their game for this MOMENT!” Troy announced, pointed his blade up, “If we hit 1,000,000 likes on this, we will go to the bonus round today!”/

“The Calypso Twins…” The Maliwan man muttered, eyeing the surveyor feed showing you. Your expression showed horror as you looked around at the arena and crowd.

/“AND WHAT A SPECTACULAR END FOR THAT PLAYTHING!!” Mouthpiece commented, setting off more fireworks, “TRULY SPECTACULAR, THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING HAS MADE HER DEBUT!”/

God Queen? Plaything?

The man growled, “They think of themselves as gods now, huh?” He went to his computer, bringing up several files. Pictures of Lilith, Maya, Amara, Tyreen, Angel, Steele, Gaia, and others were displayed, some of them had X’s on their faces. 

“Quite boastful for a Siren to call themselves a God…” he whispered, bringing up other files. This time, mugshots of Hephaestus with child Tyreen, Troy, and their mother Leto are displayed alongside Steele and another man named Pietro who looks similar to Hephaestus. The file name says “GORTYS” Project.

.:DATA NOT FOUND:.

“That damn Hephaestus, even after all these years, he managed to delete the information of the project…” the man hissed out, “But at least this plays into my plans. I wonder if you are rolling in your grave, seeing how those two ended up turning into the very things you hated, Hephaestus. And now they are using your sister as a toy.”

“What should we do, Papa?” Blue asked, cutting off the feed.

“We’ll keep an eye on the situation. If anything happens, we’ll go in and pick her up,” the man stated, leaving the office.

The video rewinds.

“We’ll keep an eye on the situation. If anything happens, we’ll go in and pick her up,” the man stated.

The video rewinds again and again, repeating the same statement.

A computer beeps slowly in the background. On the screen of the computer, a message is displayed.

.:You are an evil man, Papa.:.

\-----00000------

You held your bag, hugging your doll, waiting as Hephaestus spoke with Cepheus and Cassie who gave him a quick hug, the old lady crying a bit. The bandit couple had already bid you farewell, scolding and reminding Hephaestus about the dangers of travelling with a child. 

Before long, you and your brother ventured out, reaching a familiar scavenger village by the wastes. This was the area you and Hephaestus would obtain scrap for the projects you worked on. However, you were confused, looking around, questioning the reason for stopping by here.

“What are we doing here? I thought you said we were going to head out to the main city to catch a ride…” you asked, nervous. 

“We’re waiting for someone…. A group,” you brother kept looking at his watch. He had been doing that a lot for the past few hours.

“A group?” you inquired, “I thought it was just us two leaving.” 

“Eh, that was the old plan… A friend of mine and her two kids are tagging along,” Hephaestus confessed, still looking at his watch, “They are meeting us here.” You blinked.

“Oh..” you said, gulping, “Wait. Don’t tell me you got hitched and all of a sudden I’m an aunt!” Hephaestus choked, coughing, “W-What! I-Its nothing like that!” He shook his head, giving you an exasperated look. You had the strangest theories in mind.

“I don’t know! You never tell me anything about your jobs!” you huffed, stuffing your doll in your backpack, “Always leaving me in the dark… We’d be on our way out of here but we’re waiting for your lady friend and her brats.” Hephaestus sighed, rubbing his face. 

“Come on, baby sis, don’t be like that. The kids are around your age, I’m sure you will get along with them,” Hephaestus offered, patting you on the shoulder, “One of them likes robotics and mechanic work.” He wanted to tell you they were the ones who received your other doll.

You perked up on this, “Oh? Really?” The other kids at the Viper camp were not too keen on mechanic work, preferring to learn to handle a gun and shoot skags that strayed near the camp. You enjoyed that as well, but not as hardcore as they did.

“Yep, so don’t fret,” he grinned at you. A ping went off on his watch, Hephaestus reading the message, eyes widening.

“Brother?” you asked. You could feel the ground shaking slightly, your attention turned to the entrance of the scavenger village, seeing large red tanks. 

“Atlas…” you whispered, seeing Lancers and Crimson Lance soldiers approaching.

.:MESSAGE(S) INCOMING:.

.:L.C: We can’t leave our spot! Crimson Lance soldiers have our area surrounded, Hepha!

.:MESSAGE(S) INCOMING:.

.:P.Juno: Hepha! Steele is on her way to your location! GET AWAY FROM THERE! 

Hephaestus panicked, grabbing your arm, “We have to go!” You yelped as your brother dragged you away from the inner area of the village. 

“Hepha! What’s going on?! HEPHA!” You screamed as explosions sounded off. Your brother didn’t respond, merely picking you up, your bags abandoned as the other scavengers ran away, screaming, the Crimson Lance soldiers marching into the makeshift village. Several Crimson Lancers barged in, shooting at the tents, killing several scavengers, causing chaos. 

“Hepha!” you pleaded, scared. 

“I need to keep you safe!” Hephaestus held you tight as he dodged several crumbling scrap piles. You clung desperately to him, crying, “Hepha…!” Your brother faced forward, crying as well. He was determined to get you out alive.

Hepha….

All you saw was the red of the Crimson Lance soldiers.

Hepha…

Red.

Then darkness, quiet, before noises erupted.

The explosions numbed your senses. Before you knew it, you were on the ground, your brother nowhere in sight. Pandemonium was everywhere.

“HEPHA! DON’T LEAVE ME!” You cried out, “HEPHA!” Bodies were strewn everywhere. Smoke rising from the burning tents, choking you, clouding your vision. 

“HEPHA!” you kept shouting, voice going hoarse.

“HEPHA! Don’t leave me!” You kept running, searching desperately for your brother. 

He would never leave you. 

Did he?

\---------00000000---------

You broke out, sobbing uncontrollably, ignoring the pain in your chest. Your one family gone. 

“You left me…” you whispered.

“I didn’t leave you, doll.”

You opened your eyes, zoned out. Tyreen was sitting on the hospital bed, petting your hair. She kept observing you, a hint of concern? You hissed, slapping her arm away, “Don’t touch me!” The world spun around you, your arm burning up from the impact. You were lost, last you remembered was passing out in your hut. It dawned on you that the infirmary was the location you were in.

Tyreen appeared amused, but narrowed her eyes, “You didn’t learn your lesson did you, doll?” She stood up, arms crossed. Tyreen had expected for your attitude to change. 

You were sitting up now, turning to stare at your pillow, tears still pouring out. His goofy smile, his carefree nature. Memories buried deep in you, the only times you were truly happy. The pale monster destroyed it. All of it. Red. Atlas red. Crimson. 

“Hepha.”

You didn’t look at Tyreen.

“You kept repeating that name over and over again,” Tyreen said, anger rising again in her, “Another one of your little friends?” Tyreen grabbed your chin harshly, forcing you to look up, jealousy getting the better of her again.

Snarling, you tried to bite her. She grabbed your arm, “Answer. Now.” Her nails dug into your bruises on your arm.

You laughed, blood oozing from your nostrils, wiping it away, “My brother.” You felt bold, brave. Perhaps the medical drugs? You were at death’s door. No, the little monster in your mind was keeping that door shut for now.

Tyreen eased her grip, looking at you in surprise, “Your brother…?” 

Your shoulders shook, from sobbing or laughter, you weren’t sure, Tyreen still holding on to you. The little monster laughed at your predicament.

“I must have pissed off the creator of the universe in my past lives to end up in this fucking ironic situation…” You hissed out, then cackled. You were slipping. The little monster was ecstatic. 

“My brother gets killed by a Siren and I end up the plaything for one! What fucking luck! YOU SHOULD HAVE FINISHED THE JOB YOU BITCH!” you shouted in disgust, glaring at Tyreen. She swallowed hard, startled.

Tyreen stepped back, shocked from the revelation. She looked at her Siren arm then at you. Memories from your first encounter, the insults, the hissing and growling, the hate and fear in your eyes, all of it making sense now to Tyreen.

The reason you would tense up whenever she’d show off her marks. The reason you viewed her in disgust. 

The main reason you despised her. 

For being a Siren.

Hephaestus was right, you thought, Sirens are monsters.

“That fucking Atlas bitch screwed my life! You Sirens are a fucking plague! Monsters!” you kept shouting, “Commandant Steele killed my brother!” You threw down the medical tray next you, startling Tyreen. You dug into your pillow, imagining the pale monster’s face on it. 

“So, I apologize my God Queen, if I’m feeling a bit peeved by how my life has turned out. Perhaps I would have better luck in Pandora?!” You yelled out, tearing the pillow apart, “I hear it’s wonderful this time of the year!” Fluff of the pillow flew everywhere. 

“I’m sure I will get comfortable there…” you grinned at Tyreen, delirious, a maniacal look on your face, “Far away from this shit hole. Far away from you, you fucking monster. ANYWHERE, extremely far away from YOU!” You were slipping further and further. All you saw was red. Red. Red.

Tyreen remained frozen in her place, a bit jumpy, when you started pulling at the IV, ripping it off from your wrists. 

“W-What are you doing?!” Tyreen tried to grab you, but yelped when you swiped at her with a scalpel. 

“Don’t touch me, monster!” you hissed out, “I have to get back to work. I need to finish my service jobs.” You fell down to the ground with a thud before you could reach the door. Tyreen immediately rushed over, steadying you up. She grabbed your arms as you tried to stab her with the scalpel you managed to grab on the floor. 

“Stop it…” Tyreen whispered, begging, “Come on, your wounds are reopening….!”

This time you succeeded in biting her arm, “The same ones you gave me, bitch! Get your fucking hands off me! You disgust me!” You pushed her off as Tyreen nursed on her bite. She had a hurt look, pleading. 

“I have a lot of work to do. The bodies won’t maim themselves, my God Queen,” you whispered, bowing at her, driving further into insanity, “I must get ready for the bloody sacrifice.” The little monster in your head was begging you to let loose. It kept screaming to start some mayhem, SPILL BLOOD. Tyreen was prime target, so close.

SO CLOSE.

Just a little.

LET GO. LET LOOSE. BLOODY SACRIFICE.

D A. M. N. I. T. S. P. I L. L. B. L O. O. D. 

“Bloody sacrifice!” you cheered, another nosebleed occurring. You wiped your nose, eyeing the blood on your hand, giggling. 

Yes, the little monster in your head said, go all out! BREAK FREE! BREAK FREE!

You grabbed onto the IV stand, swinging it at Tyreen. She dodged, causing you to hit the medical curtain around the bed, bringing it down. You kicked the bed, sliding it towards her. The loud commotion caused the other medics to rush in, Troy coming in as well. He froze when he saw you hissing and growling at Tyreen.

“Tyreen!”

Tyreen shook her head, holding her injured, bleeding arm. Troy held the other medics back.

“Stay back!” you screeched, holding the IV stand with one hand, bloody grip, “STAY BACK!” 

You held the scalpel near your throat, “Helen, wait for me! You and I need to set things straight, make room for me in hell!” Tyreen yelled as you pushed down, cutting through the CoV mark on your collarbone. You could feel your gown getting wet as you fell down, hitting the edge of the bed, laughing. 

Your mind hoping this was it. The little monster cursed at you for ruining its fun.

\-----00000------

Through the pitch darkness of the night, you kept running and running, not stopping or turning around, afraid of seeing soldiers. You cried, frightened as you saw the Viper camp coming into view. There was nowhere else to go but there, your little safe haven.

“CEPHEUS! CASSIE!” you shouted, sobbing. The guards at the entrance immediately took their guns out, pointing at you. Collapsing on the ground, you started screaming.

“W-What the-!? Andromeda?!” one of the guards shouted, “Quick, get the boss!” The other guard took off, the remaining guard opening the gates, rushing towards you.

“A-Andromeda, where’s Hepha?!” the guard asked, picking you up, running inside the camp. You held on to the guard, crying, “She killed him, she killed him… she killed him!”

Cepheus and Cassie, alongside other bandits congregated in the center of the camp, the commotion alerting them. They saw you covered in dirt and blood, gasping. 

“Child, oh no!” Cassie took you from the guard, hugging you, “Its okay, its okay, you’re with us…” You sobbed, shaking uncontrollably. 

“W-What happened!?” Cepheus looked at the guard as he stood by Cassie, holding your hand.

“She showed up alone, boss… She said someone killed Hephaestus…” the guard replied, shocked as they turned to stare out the gate. Cepheus looked out as well, noticing the large stacks of smoke in the distance.

“The scavengers….” Cepheus observed, “Fucking shit… Hephaestus…”

“BOSS! BOSS! Atlas convoys are on their way!” A group of guards came forward, scared, “Several Crimson Lancers!”

“Those fuckers, they must have attacked the scavenger village… Everyone to your posts! Take the children to the bunkers now!” Cepheus ordered, digistructing his pistol out. 

“YES SIR!” The guards also summoned their guns, heading back to the main gates.

The Vipers immediately set off, evacuating several of the women and children into the underground bunkers, Cassie holding you. Cepheus took out a remote, a small display appearing, “I was hoping not to use your defenses this soon, Hepha.” He activated the small turrets and shield towers surrounding the camp. He could hear the rumbling of the tanks as he went up the wall of the main entrance.

Several Crimson Lancers stopped ways away, Steele stepping out from a larger tank, eyeing the bandit camp from a distance. She and Cepheus locked gaze, the old man sneering at her.

“The Atlas Siren…” Cepheus whispered, remembering what Hephaestus told him about her, “Steele…” The turrets aimed directly at the convoy.

“Commandant Steele, we lost communication with Squad Delta,” a pager called in, “We’re sending another group to retrieve the Calypsos.” 

“Understood, I’m heading that way as well, my job here is done,” Steele said, walking back inside the tank. The Crimson Lance forces retreated, Cepheus gripping tight his gun, watching them leave. 

“Cold hearted bitch…” he muttered, tension leaving the area.

In the underground bunker, Cassie held you close to her, rubbing your back. Her children surrounded her, hugging you and Cassie. You had passed out from the exhaustion, whimpering. At least for now, you were safe.

The cold reality waiting for you wake up.

\-----000000------

“You’ve got to… joking… right…” Troy?

Your chest felt tight, the pain on your side was overbearing.

“Her brother… Siren….. killed…” Tyreen?

Every draw of breath burned your lungs. Hot and heavy. Your neck was on fire.

“Tyreen… injuries….you!” Anger. A lot of anger.

Your mind ordered your body to move. No response. 

“Resist… healing….Troy… care…”

Too noisy, your brain thought. Shut up. SHUT. UP. The little monster kept screaming for silence.

You slightly opened your eyes, foggy vision. A warm sensation pooled in your mind, relieving the pressure building up, causing you to close your eyes. You could feel someone’s skin against your cold, shivering one. Hot, too hot. Then cold on your side. A hand met yours, still caked with dry blood, giving it a small squeeze. You instinctively held on. 

“Hang… there….mechanic….”

You slipped back into nothingness. 

\----00000-----

Various thoughts raced through your mind. Dreams became nightmares. Nightmares became reality. Every time you went to sleep, you wished you’d wake up and find yourself back in the wastes, either with the bandits or back with your brother. Your current reality just a figment of a bad night. 

You had shitty luck. 

Slowly waking up, groggy from the medical drugs, you were met with Troy laying on another medical bed stuck to yours. Your hand was intertwined with his human one. You were too weak to pull away this time. 

The taller Calypso looked exhausted, his jacket gone, discarded on top of a bloody IV stand. The same one you tried to maim Tyreen with. He was drawing circles on top of your hand with his thumb. His gaze met yours.

“Hey,” he stopped, sitting up, chuckling, “you have a strong grip.”

You closed your eyes, sighing. Conscious, you loosened your grip on his hand. 

“She loved you,” you whispered, voice raspy. Helen deserved better.

“I know,” Troy said, low. His tone hinted sadness. He moved closer to you, brushing your hair to the side, his hand trailing to the scarred skin on your neck. You could feel his fingers softly tracing it.

“…..it was a deep gash.” He sounded nervous, afraid.

“Not deep enough, apparently,” you hissed out, coughing, “Still alive.” You opened your eyes again, this time weakly glaring at him. Troy frowned, bringing the hand on your neck to your head, massaging it. You growled a bit, hating that your body was liking the gesture. At least he wasn’t pulling your hair like Tyreen would. 

“You also bumped your head on the edge of the bed,” Troy informed you, pulling his hand away, “Another gash there….”

“Aside from the ones Tyreen gave me.” There was disgust in your tone at the mention of Tyreen. Troy didn’t blame you for feeling that way. After healing you, Tyreen almost had a breakdown upon realizing what you had tried to do. 

To kill yourself just to get away from her.

Troy bared witness to Tyreen screaming for you to stay alive as she desperately tried healing you, begging him to help. Between the two of them, they managed to heal up the deep neck gash. He resorted to slapping her to stop her from freaking out at the amount of blood you had lost.

“How long have I been out?” you asked, taking deep breaths. The pain on your side was still present. You reached for the cup of water on your side, Troy helping you by holding it as you took small sips. 

“A few days… I’ve been keeping watch,” Troy confessed, “Been feeding you energy…” He had red bands on his left arm that were fading. 

You sighed, exhausted, pushing the cup away, Troy setting the cup down. At least you didn’t wake up with Tyreen in the room, you weren’t sure how much more you could handle. 

“Why did you do it?” Troy asked, reaching to grab your hand. 

“You all should have let me die,” you hissed out, “Don’t you and Tyreen have other little toys to play with?” You were furious, tired of being used.

Troy tensed up, pulling away.

/It’s obvious what he is going to do. He’s going to pursue you and it doesn’t matter if you are Tyreen’s plaything./

“What’s the matter? Pissy that Tyreen got to me first? Beating the shit out of me?” you grabbed the blankets, balling them up in your hands, “You were itching to tear into my flesh not too long ago.” Troy’s eyes widen at your accusing comment. 

/You are not the first one Troy has gone after, smitten and played with. Those playthings genuinely thought it was permanent before you know…/ Oh, Helen. If only she knew. If only she knew everything about your past.

You had gone through this before numerous times. When you were down, broken, defeated, the man you once loved would swoop in and pretend he was making everything better. His assuring words hooked you in, believing every single little thing he said. 

/He got a thrill out of their behavior, the playthings worshipping him got him off./

“Cut the nice act… Thinking you can just come in and butter me up with your pretty words and acts… You disgust me…” you spat out, tears of anger falling down your face. Troy stared at you.

“W-What did Helen tell you…?” he whispered, his hand shaking a bit.

You snorted, wiping away your tears, “She only confirmed my suspicions on everything going on in here, not that it matters any way. In here I’m a dead woman, out there the same.” More tears escaped from you, remembering your life away from the wastes. Everything was perfect, you had thought, until the man showed his true colors to you, everything falling apart. You fell apart. Your entire world fell apart. Now you were stuck in a perpetual nightmare with the Children of the Vault.

You felt Troy’s hand on your cheek, his lips touching yours.

You slapped him.

“How fucking dare you!” you slapped him again, “Helen was right, you are a piece of shit. If you weren’t such a fucking child, she’d still be alive!” Troy grabbed your arms, pinning you down on the bed, hiding his face on your neck. You struggled against him, trying to push him off. You stopped when you heard him sobbing, crying hard.

“I-I couldn’t even save her..” Troy cried out, “I couldn’t even save her… I couldn’t even stop Tyreen’s punishment on you…” He desperately hugged you, his body shaking. 

/I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…. I’m so sorry…/

“I couldn’t even save the others before Helen…” Troy broke down, “I-I’m not repeating the same mistake with you…” He looked at you, pleading. He desperately wanted to tell you he wanted something more with you. He wanted to get to know you more. He wanted you to feel safe with him. 

/Its okay, mummy…./

“It’s too late, Troy,” you whisper, “Go find someone else to play with.” You weren’t falling for any tricks.

/Ever experienced a heartbreak?/

Troy shook his head. He had experienced too many heartbreaks. 

He wasn’t going to give up. Tyreen had taken so much from him.

\------000000---------

The next day, Troy didn’t show up, a wave of relief washed over you. If he had, you were sure that you were going to use him as a punching bag, even in your current weak state. You were still pissed off that he tried to kiss you again, even after all that had happened between him and Helen. 

/I’m not repeating the same mistake with you./

You growled, remembering his stupid words. You felt disgusted. He was bold in making that statement. Eyeing the IV stand and wires hooked up to you, temptation fell in to pull them out and leave the infirmary. It was squashed when you saw Tyreen enter the room. 

Your body immediately reacted, shaking uncontrollably. In vain, you tried to calm yourself as she approached you. Your lungs were burning for air as you held your breath, waiting for any movement from Tyreen. You glanced at the exit, your mind quickly making an escape plan.

She stood there, looking at you with an empty expression. Tyreen had seen better days, exhaustion was present on her face, her Siren tattoos were glowing dimly. Her gaze fell on the large scar on your neck. 

Tyreen vividly remembered your blood soaking her clothes, hearing you choke, life escaping you as she tried to close the wound. The offending scalpel kept glaring at her when she held you in her arms, glistening with blood.

/Far away from this shit hole. Far away from you, you fucking monster. ANYWHERE, extremely far away from YOU!/

“Why did you do it?” Tyreen asked, softly, reaching out to touch the scar.

You flinched, scooting away from her. Pulling the blanket up your chest, you covered your neck, looking away, waiting.

No hits, no hair pulling, no slaps. 

You looked back at her, gulping. Tyreen was gazing down at the bed, arms resting on her sides. 

“You hate me.” That was a given from the start. You weren’t sure what gave her a different impression.

Her voice sounded defeated, small, strained. 

“You hate me because I’m a Siren.” Aside from other reasons, you thought. The little monster in your head wanted to see her squirm. The little monster wanted to see the color of a Siren’s blood. 

You eyed her suspiciously, not liking her vacant expression and body language. What was she planning?

“You hate me because I’m a Siren… the same type as the one who killed your brother…” 

/My brother gets killed by a Siren and I end up the plaything for one! What fucking luck!/

You clenched your fists, taking deep breaths. 

/Sirens are monsters… don’t get involved with one…/ An advice from Hephaestus you were heeding. Since you were captured and made into Tyreen’s plaything, you did your best not to trust her. Even as she tried to befriend you, even as she tried to show you affection, even as she tried to have you be hers and only hers. You saw her for what she truly was.

A monster.

A complete monster that relished in the pain of others. A monster that didn’t care for anyone else, self-obsessed, wanting everyone to fear them but to love them, no questions asked. You didn’t bend your knee for her, paying the price, almost losing your life. She reminded you too much of HIM. 

“You’re a monster,” you said. You saw her tense up, not meeting your gaze. She shook her head, lips thin.

“I-I’m not… I’m not a monster…” she pleaded, “I-I…” She looked up now, tears at the corner of her eyes.

“I’m not a monster!” she declared, “I-I’m…”

“A fucking monster,” you offered again. 

Tyreen wanted to scream out that she wasn’t a monster. She wanted to tell you that the jealousy got to her. That she was afraid that someone else had your attention, even after all the attempts she did to get you to like her. She wasn’t used competing for attention, she hated the fact that someone else got to see you laugh, smile. She was even competing with Troy as well, of all people. What did you see in Perseus? Why was he allowed near you when you’d push her away? 

All of it was answered with your outburst.

/My brother gets killed by a Siren./

She never met your brother but yet you were treating it as if she was the one who killed him. 

/…and I end up as the plaything as one./

Playthings wanted her attention. 

You didn’t want it. You never did. The little snide remarks, the hissing, the growling. 

Tyreen had tried to ignore it, thinking you’d eventually search her out. Just like the other previous playthings. But it never came out. 

/She doesn’t belong to you. You can’t tame her./

Tyreen froze, remembering Master’s taunting message. 

Fear.

You were glaring at her, but there was the fear she wanted to see. The fear her flock possessed. The fear that was etched deep in your skin, your body remembering the punches, the kicking, the hair pulling. You had flinched, you held your breath, waiting, waiting, waiting for her move.

Tyreen looked lost. She didn’t want that anymore. She didn’t want you being afraid of her.

“No…” she whispered, horrified, realizing the situation. She tried to hug you, pulling back when you screamed, thrashing, falling off the hospital bed in an attempt to get away from her. You were crying, covering yourself with the blanket, shaking. Due to fright, you threw up, getting scared at seeing blood. Several medics rushed in, Pip following.

“What have you done, Tyreen?!” Pip pushed her away as you kept screaming, the medics grabbing you, “We need to sedate her!” One of the medics prepared the shot, your eyes widening.

“N-No! No! Please no!” You begged.

Pip injected you, holding you as the sedative kicked in. The medics checked your injuries, seeing a stitch reopen from your side, bruising resurfacing. The same area Tyreen had stomped on, cracking a rib. You knocked out, your breathing becoming labored.

Pip looked at Tyreen, “What did- Tyreen?”

Tyreen was on her knees, crying. 

/Congratulations, you broke her spirit./ 

\------000000--------

“I hope you’re fucking happy with yourself,” Troy spat out, “I leave her side for a day and immediately you fuck something up!” He paced back and forth, pulling at his hair.

Tyreen was sitting away from Troy, staring ahead. They were in Pip’s office, the medic general performing another surgery on you. The fall had caused another internal bleeding. Even under the sedative, you threw up blood, breaking out in a fever. 

“Oh, now you are being quiet for once?” Troy growled, “What did you do?! ANSWER ME!” Tyreen jumped when his tone went up, looking at him. 

“Did you slap her? Did you kick her? Did you punch her? Oh, wait, you probably choked her, that’s your fucking favorite thing to do…” he hissed out, now towering over her. Tyreen pushed him away, getting up from her spot.

“I-I didn’t do any of that!” she yelled back, glaring at him, growling. 

“Pip said she was on the fucking floor when he barged in after hearing her scream!” Troy roughly grabbed Tyreen’s arm, sneering, “I swear if you laid a finger on her…” Tyreen pulled away.

“I said I didn’t do any of that! Get it through your thick head, Troy!” she yelled back again.

“No, Tyreen…” Troy pointed at her, “You get it through your head…you lay a finger on her again… Anticipate retribution from me… “

“Y-You’re threatening me?” Tyreen looked at Troy, surprised.

“I pass divine punishment here, Tyreen,” Troy glared at her, “You took too much from me… All the others and Helen… What you did to Helen… I’ll never forgive you for that. What you did to the mechanic…”

“She’s my plaything…” Tyreen whispered, her only response. She didn’t want to escalate this between her and Troy. 

“Oh, I know that. But I have to keep you in check, God Queen,” Troy hissed out, “I’m going to hit you where it hurts the most, just you wait.”

Before Tyreen could say anything, Troy stormed off, pulling the door off the hinges, tossing it on the floor with his mechanical hand. 

“T-Troy!?” Tyreen shouted, “TROY!”

\------00000000---------

You lost count of the amount of times you had passed out, the morphine and sedatives messing with your internal body clock. Sighing, you scratched at your neck, the itchy feeling from the scar getting to you. A hand grabbed it, pulling it away. 

“Don’t,” Troy ordered, “It won’t heal well.” You rolled your eyes, annoyed. 

Tyreen was sitting at the end of the bed, quiet, staring at the wall. The Calypsos were once again with you, irritating and ruining your day.

“Here, eat this,” Troy pushed a tray of fruit slices, taking one and eating it, “It’s not poisoned, okay?” You picked one up, sniffing it before taking a small bite. Satisfied, you nibbled more on the slice, grabbing another one. 

“Eat it slow, last time you almost threw up,” Troy reminded you. Huffing, you chewed on the fruit, glancing once in a while at Tyreen. The tall Calypso kept peeling some fruit, humming. He placed more on the tray. 

“You want some, Ty?” Troy asked.

“No.”

Troy shrugged, eating several fruit slices. You blinked, looking from him to Tyreen, noticing the unease. After the surgery, Troy took turns with Pip to keep watch on you since Tyreen kept coming by. Fortunately, you were still out, you didn’t have to deal with the awkward talks they all had in the room. 

“Damn, these are good, I’m more of a meat person, but I guess I do need to eat my fruits and vegetables, am I right?” Troy asked, grinning. 

You gave him a disappointed look as you ate another slice. You felt Troy grabbing your hand again.

“Stop scratching it...”

You glanced down, noticing you were unconsciously trying to scratch on your side where the stitches were at.

“Oh….”

“Yes, ‘oh,’ do I need to have Pip put you in a full body cast?” Troy vaguely threatened. You stuck your tongue out at him, hearing him laugh. When you readjusted your blankets after removing the tray, you caught Tyreen looking at you. She looked away immediately.

A ping spooked everyone, Troy taking out his EchoNet device. He silently cursed, glancing at Tyreen. She nodded, heading out of the room.

“I’ll be back, stay put,” Troy said, patting you on the head, leaving the room. You gave him a confused look, wondering what they received. 

Outside, Donovan and Basil were waiting on Troy with Tyreen, their expressions grim. Tyreen was biting her finger, agitated. Troy ushered them away from the room, not wanting for you to hear them. They all walked to Pip’s office who was looking at some data in several screens.

“What’s the status…?” Tyreen asked.

“Numerous causalities in several of our Promethea outposts… No survivors according to the scouts,” Pip informed, not looking up from his EchoNet device, “Several Pandoran, Eden-6 posts were also razed down…”

“This doesn’t sound like the Crimson Raiders doing…” Basil said, “They barely had enough manpower in our last raid.”

“We lost contact with the outpost in Athenas as well,” Donovan said, “We can assume no survivors as well.”

Troy clenched his fists, “That fucker made its move…”

Another ping came through, this time on everyone’s devices. All of them read the contents, Troy and Tyreen blood went cold. 

.:! INCOMING MESSAGE !:.

.:P.K.: That was only the beginning. 

An emblem of a Knight was displayed.

/???: Master may be holding back, but I won’t./

\------000000------

The shrubberies of flowers were trimmed, weeds pulled, and soil replenished in your little garden. It was a nice change of pace, tending a garden instead of killing, growing exhausted from the fights. Thankfully, the size of the estate you resided on had plenty of space for your plants. You sat under the shade of a fruit tree, content with your work done, watching as a little girl ventured from bush to bush, picking several flowers. She busied herself, turning to look at you, smiling.

“Mummy!” Blue ran towards you, holding a flower crown with a mixture of carnations and daisies, “For the Queen!” You smiled back, leaning forward to allow the child to place the accessory on your head. 

“Why, thank you, would that make you the Princess?” you teased. Blue giggled, shaking her head.

“I’m the mighty Knight that protects the Queen from any harm!” she proclaimed, “Who also happens to be a Princess… a Princess Knight!” You clapped, laughing.

“Oh, valiant Knight! Her Majesty accepts your oath of protection,” you sat the girl on your lap, giving her little kisses on the cheek and forehead. She giggled, trying to stop you, “Mummy!”

“You have a long way to go before protecting me, sweetie,” you gently hugged her, rubbing her back, “So let me do the protecting for now, okay?”

Blue hummed, whispering, “Okay, mummy…” You frowned, looking at your own scars on your arms. The fights in the ring were only for the pleasure of the corporate bigwigs, their sick fantasies of seeing gore action. It was the price to pay for this life. Hearing a car engine, you faced the side of the garden. A black car parked by the area, someone stepping out. You stood up, holding Blue’s hand.

A woman in a black business suit and wearing black glasses approached you. Her red hair was combed up to the side, her lips in a dark green color sported a small smile.

“Hello, I’m here for Blue,” the woman replied, “Thank you for looking after her, Queen.” You let go of Blue who skipped over to the woman.

“Mama!” Blue greeted her, hugging her legs, “Are we going to the amusement park?” The woman nodded, patting her on the head.

“Run along, I’ll catch up,” the woman replied, Blue giggled and took off, approaching two other women standing by the car. You watched Blue leave, glancing at the woman.

“No need to look sullen, dear.” Her tone gave you goosebumps. It was almost hearing HIM. You jumped when you felt her hand on your cheek, her lips on yours. You didn’t pull away. 

“Sometimes we can share, you know? Although he and I are no longer together, doesn’t mean my love for you is gone,” she smirked, watching the blush on your cheeks get darker, “But I know you have eyes for him, that’s fine with me.”

“Circe… I….” she cut you off by putting a finger on your lips. 

“You are not the reason for our separation. We both love you,” Circe held your hand, “Business marriages are just like that, we get what we want from the other and go our separate ways.” She glanced back at the car waiting for her.

“If anything happens to me… please look after Blue, okay?” Circe asked, low, “She’s one of the few good things in my life…”

You nodded, “I promise.” You couldn’t shake the ominous feeling when she looked at you with a sad expression before departing to the car. Blue chattered up a storm when the car door opened, Circe disappearing in it. The wind picked up, knocking down your flower crown. Reaching down for it, you saw someone approach. Getting up, you saw the Maliwan man standing before you, smiling.

“You and I need to talk.” 

You felt fear.

\-------00000000---------

You have (1) message in your inbox!

Open? (YES/NO)

(Yes)

[Image sent is that of a Jester attacking cultists at an outpost, larger in size, a Goliath is on its mouth. Other Jesters are seen in the background, tearing into the crowd.]

! INCOMING MESSAGE !

Unknown User: I must apologize for my associate’s trigger-happy moment. :3c

Unknown User: I hope you didn’t lose a lot. :D

Unknown User: But I’m glad to see my Queen is recovering. : ) I was worried. My associate as well, they just have a different way of showing it. ;)

Unknown User: We showed what we are capable of. :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

YOU CAN NO LONGER SEND MESSAGES TO THIS USER

P.K.: Stop playing with them.

Unknown User: And you need to stop butting into my business. :D

\--------00000000--------

Tyreen and Troy were in the Surveillance Room alongside the generals, all of them quiet. They had been dealt a huge blow by the mysterious Master and another individual named P.K. Other outposts were assessed, defenses beefed up, everyone was on high alert. What remained of the jesters, from their intact body parts, were brought back to the main stronghold for Pip to study them. 

“We were caught off guard…” Donovan hissed out.

“This just shows these individuals not only have influence in Promethea but elsewhere as well,” Moksha said, “And this PK person was also able to bypass our security features…”

“What the fuck is going on?! First that Atlas stronghold with those bodies and now this!” Basil shouted, “And you know who’s in the middle of this fucking mess?!”

You.

“No one is going near her, am I clear?” Troy growled, “This was a retaliation for what happened to her. If those two get a hint that any of you is going to harm her… there’s no telling if they will target our main stronghold…” He glanced at Tyreen who was quiet. The taunting message had been delivered to her EchoNet device.

Troy knew this was her fault. Everyone in the room knew it as well.

Tyreen was fully aware of it. She gritted her teeth, angry, feeling humiliated. 

She had let Master’s words get to her. 

“We need to let the others know, the cultists are going to question the sudden movements,” Troy said, bringing up a screen displaying several outposts and those in charge of them, “We need to initiate a crowd control protocol.”

“I’ll start setting up for a broadcast,” Basil informed, “Mouthpiece will have the scripts ready for Troy to check.”

“Moksha, prepare the warehouses for another raid, we can’t let this be a setback,” Donovan ordered. 

“On it, I’ll have the mechanics tune up the current technicals,” Moksha said, “I’ve already contacted and ordered the other outposts warehouses to double up on guns and shields.”

“Alright, everyone has their duties to do, go, now!” Troy commanded, all the generals bowing, exiting the Surveillance Room. All that were left were the Calypsos.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Tyreen whispered, rubbing her face, “I handed those fuckers a win in a silver platter…”

“At least you aren’t in denial,” Troy said, angry, “You better get your act together before we go live for the broadcast.” He glared at her before leaving the room.

Tyreen felt more lonelier than usual.

\-------00000000----------

Staring at the vanity mirror, Tyreen brushed her hair, applying make-up, and putting the last touches of her outfit for the broadcast. Despite her efforts, she felt that her irritation and exhaustion were still visible, the eyebags hiding under her make-up. 

She had been unable to sleep for the past few days, the punishment she gave you eating at her after the arena fight against Helen. She was even afraid of her own self, viewing the Let’s Flay playback, of how unhinged she looked as she ordered you to kill the ex-priestess. Your expression of horror and anger was burned into her mind as the surveyor passed by, how you desperately held Helen in your arms, crying after Donovan shot his plaything.

/Congratulations, you broke her spirit./

Tyreen screamed, throwing the items off the vanity table, pulling at her hair.

“S-Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” she yelled at no one. 

/You’re a monster./

“I’M NOT!” she cried out, her make-up smearing with her tears.

/You’re a fucking monster,/

“I’M NOT A MONSTER!” Tyreen covered her face, rocking back and forth, “I-I’m not a monster… I’m not a monster….”

She kept crying, gazing at herself in the mirror. It stared back, her reflection pathetic. She wondered how she had fallen to this state. She wondered how things could have been if she never attempted hurting you. She stared at her Siren tattoos, cursing at the offending marks.

The reason you hated her. For being a Siren.

If she didn’t have them, would you have liked her? She cleaned up her make-up, trying not to dwell in the what ifs. The damage was done.

She didn’t want to face the truth.

\-------000000------

With a few hours before the broadcast, Tyreen debated with herself to pay you a visit at the infirmary, hoping Troy wasn’t around. She could use the excuse of checking up on Pip at the morgue. She gave herself a quick look, hoping her puffy eyes weren’t too noticeable, before walking in. Several medics bowed at her, nervously glancing at her. She paid no attention to them. They’d be foolish to try to stop her.

As she approached your room, she heard hearty chatter, laughter. Pausing, she furrowed her eyebrows, confused. Pushing the door open, she froze in her tracks.

Perseus was sitting on the other side of your bed, holding some play cards, Jackal was beside him, keeping watch. You were holding cards, grinning.

“What’s he doing here Jackal,” Tyreen said out loud. All eyes turned on her. Perseus jumped from your bed, hiding behind Jackal. You tried to get up, struggling to block Perseus from her view, scared.

“I asked you a question,” Tyreen said again. She was trying to keep her jealousy down.

“I summoned him.”

Tyreen looked to her side, Troy was sitting comfortably in a chair, his expression neutral. They both stared at each other. You nervously glanced at Tyreen who clenched her fists.

“What’s he doing here, Troy?” Tyreen asked, her voice strained.

“The mechanic felt lonely, I figured why not let her friend come over and visit, after all, Moksha has told me that he and the other mechanics were worried for your plaything,” Troy said, a small smirk tugging at his lips, “Your plaything needs a playmate, Tyreen.”

Tyreen’s eyes widen a bit, then glared at Troy. 

“You…”

“You are not to lay a finger on him, he’s under my protection,” Troy stood up, looking down at Tyreen, “He saved my life, this is my repayment.” He grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the room. You watched them leave, slightly afraid. Troy was pissed. He had been cracking jokes earlier.

“I-Is everything going to be okay…?” Perseus asked, glancing at the door.

“D-Don’t worry about it… Father Troy said you could be here…” Jackal assured, although he too was afraid. You gulped, picking up your cards, “Let’s just continue…”

\--------000000-------

Tyreen shoved Troy away, glaring at him, “What the fuck are you trying to pull here?! Why did you bring him in?!” She didn’t want Perseus near you, the source of her jealousy. 

Troy only smiled, “I told you he only came to visit.” His smile hid a sinister intent. 

“Don’t you fucking lie to me…” Tyreen hissed out, “You want me to snap again?!” She didn’t want to. She had screwed up so many times already.

“Oh, on the contraire, big sis,” Troy chuckled, now grinning, “I have no intentions for that to happen.” He laughed, earning a baffled look from Tyreen.

“We can’t have the God Queen snapping again lest we have the entire cult burn to the ground by our two mysterious friends,” he said, learning forward, “Tyreen, I did tell you I was going to get my revenge.”

“T-Troy..?” Tyreen was not liking his change of behavior.

“You are going to see someone else get her full attention, see her laugh, see her smile, while you observe them from a distance and look pretty,” Troy’s expression darkened, “Do I make myself clear, God Queen? You will keep your mouth shut.”

Tyreen let out a tiny gasp, angry, “W-What..? Y-You can’t do this! She’s my plaything!” 

“And I told you, I’m aware of that. But you can’t always be around her, Tyreen. You have your own duties to attend,” Troy smiled, his sharp teeth showing through, “And so do I. Who better person to look after her than a friend of hers? Right?” He laughed again.

Tyreen took a deep breath, shaking her head, “N-No…!”

Troy grabbed her arm again, yanking it hard, “I will find out if you try to plot something against the mechanic’s friend. Don’t even think about dragging any of the generals into this, I already threatened them.” Especially Donovan.

“T-Troy, you’re hurting me…” Tyreen tried to pull away, Troy letting go.

“Only physical. Just wait…. When your own heart gets destroyed numerous times… that after a while you lose count, feel numb,” Troy ranted, his expression empty, “Just like all the times you took them all away from me…”

Tyreen gulped, rubbing her injured arm. His previous lovers.

“You will be hurting a lot,” Troy said, “And I shall be patient, waiting for that moment, to see you fall apart.” He shoved past her, “Don’t be late for the broadcast.”

The God Queen stared at her own hands, feeling powerless for once. She had already given in to the Master’s taunting words. Her cult and you paid the price. Now, she had to watch out for Troy’s.

Question was, who would get axed?

\------0000000---------

The Maliwan man drummed his fingers on his desk, staring at you. Averting your gaze, you held the flower crown in your hands, shaking a bit.

“Why are you shaking? I haven’t said anything,” the man asked.

“I-It’s nothing…” you replied. The feeling that something was off with him was still present.

“What did Circe say to you?” the man asked, a little forceful.

“S-She just told me the same thing as usual… that I wasn’t the reason for your divorce with her…” you quietly answer, gulping, “And thanking me for looking after Blue…”

The man got up from his desk, approaching you, tilting your head up to view your face. You were still looking away from him.

“Look at me,” he ordered. You flinched, still looking away.

“Look. At. Me.” he growled out, pressing a bit hard on your chin with his fingertips. Relenting, you looked up. He was smiling, but his eyes were showing something else. Anger? Jealousy? Hate?

“No need for that face, dear, I will never hurt you,” he purred, nuzzling your cheek, “However, I will hurt those who dare to lay a finger on you.” You shook your head, pleading, “P-Please don’t…”

“You belong to me, do you understand?” he asked, still smiling, “A King always needs his Queen.” He pressed his lips against yours, deepening it. He parted, smirking at your flushed face.

“Circe needs to learn to keep her hands to herself,” the man whispered, letting go of your chin, placing his hands behind his back, “There will be another fight scheduled up for tonight, the Junos will be watching, we need to make an impression to get them to invest in Maliwan.”

“O-Ok…” you replied, rubbing your chin. You wanted to tell him you didn’t want to fight tonight, you were exhausted, but with his current mood, you were afraid. He never laid a hand on you, only taking it out on others around him. You wanted to avoid that.

“After that, Winona will be assisting you in the new project. She has already set aside the new stock for the surgeries,” the man informed, bringing up several screens displaying Jesters and other creatures, “I expect excellent results.”

“Ok…” you replied again, staring at the flower crown. Every day, fights. Every day, operations. You longed for the days when he would smile genuinely as you, Blue, and he would stroll on the beach.

“Are you listening?” His tone struck fear in you.

You jumped, gulping, “I-I’m sorry… I wasn’t…” you looked down. 

“What is going on with you?” he glanced at you from the screens.

“I-I’m exhausted… I haven’t had a day off…” you confessed, “I-It’s been difficult keeping up in the ring…” He stared at you. 

“I-I’m sorry…” you quickly blurt out, getting scared, holding tightly the flower crown. It was the only thing keeping you grounded.

He approached you again, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Why didn’t you say so? We can cancel the fight and the surgeries.” He squeezed your shoulder. Assurance? Annoyance?

“You’re not upset at me…?” you asked, breathing heavily. His hand trailed to your chest, tugging at your dress. He smiled at you, “Why would I be upset? I should be upset at myself for not noticing you were tired.” It didn’t lessen your fears, knowing he was going to take it out on someone else.

He pushed the shoulder straps from your dress down, leaning down to kiss your neck. You grabbed on to his shoulders, closing your eyes, feeling his tongue lick your scars.

“I’ve been horrible, neglecting you… Let me take care of you, dear,” he whispered, unbuttoning his shirt. You watched as he removed the belt on his pants, only to get distracted from a phone call blaring on the screen.

! INCOMING PHONE CALL !

.:CIRCE:. 

“CETUS, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” Gunshots were heard, followed by tire screeching. 

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!” Explosions cut into the phone call.

! END PHONE CALL !

You looked at Cetus in shock, “W-What did you do…?!”

“Don’t concern yourself with her,” he grabbed your arm, but you pulled back.

“What did you do!?” you shouted.

This time around a video feed came through, an armed guard talking.

“Master, target is down.”

“Dispose of the others,” Cetus replied, staring at you.

“Yes, sir.”

Shock and fear. Your mind snapping you back to reality when you heard the crushing of the flower crown. Cetus had taken it from your lap, letting the petals fall on the ground.

“N-No.. No.. No…NO!” you screamed.

Blue.

Blue was in the car with her mother.

You immediately took off, making way to the door.

“Get back here!” Cetus shouted, “THAT IS AN ORDER!” You ignored him, shoving past the secretaries and other armed guards. Nothing mattered to you, but Blue. Nothing mattered, not even Cetus. 

\------00000000--------

You stared at the flower crown that Perseus had made, the wildflowers full of life against the sterile infirmary. Jackal had brought flowers in after quickly stepping out of the infirmary, thinking it would brighten up your room. Perseus grinned showing it the flower crown off, placing it on your head. Jackal glanced at it, chuckling. 

“For the champion of the arena,” he said, “It goes well with your hair.” You patted the flower crown, giving him a small smile. You were surprised he knew how to make them. 

/For the Queen!/

You frowned, remembering Blue. You held back tears, not wanting to upset Perseus. 

“Can you teach me how to make one?” you asked, timid, “I-I’d like to make one for… Helen..” Jackal paused what he was doing, now looking at you. The priest had informed you her body was buried in the cathedral’s grounds. Her fellow priests, who mourned her death, retrieved her body and gave her the last rites.

You fidgeted with your fingers, eyeing the ceremonial daggers that were neatly placed on your lap. They felt heavy.

/He would give me gifts, the ceremonial daggers I have were custom made with his snake sigil./

The snakes had dried up blood between the grooves of the engraved symbol. 

Your blood. 

Perseus took out more flowers from a bag, laying them out, “Sure thing, pick the ones you want to use.”

“Jackal, which types would she pick?” you asked, eyeing the flowers available. Jackal let out tiny sob, selecting a few flowers, “These…” You nodded, holding his hand.

“I promise I will get revenge for her…” you declared, “I will not rest until I see Donovan squirm…” Perseus placed his hand on top of yours, “What he did to her… its unforgiveable...” 

Jackal broke down, crying and wailing. 

You were going to get revenge on Donovan for Helen, one way or another. Jackal, who you thought hated you, had asked for you to keep her daggers to replace the one you lost, wanting for her memory to live on in you. His faith in the Calypsos had wavered, he cursed Troy for had happened to his daughter.

“I-It’s not your fault…” Jackal sobbed out, “It’s not your fault she’s dead… and yet you are the one seeking revenge for her when my hands are tied…” 

/I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…. I’m sorry…./

“Easy there, priest,” Perseus rubbed Jackal’s back, “Remember we can’t be shouting out our grievances about the Twin Gods…” You had to stop Perseus from yelling at Tyreen when she barged in earlier. He still remembered the injuries and bruises you had prior to your infirmary stay and operations. His faith in the Calypsos was slowly eroding away. The priest and mechanic were becoming unlikely allies for you.

/It’s okay, mummy…/

“I was in her shoes a long time ago,” you whispered. Perseus glanced at you, Jackal rubbing his face, looked up.

You held the daggers up, the snake engravings mocking you, “I, too, fell in love with a man… He was my world, I devoted myself to him… I gave my entire being to him…” You poked the end of the dagger on your fingertip, blood oozing, “Helen and I were both blindly in love, fools to the target of our desires.” With the blood, you scribbled the name ‘Cetus’ on the blade, ‘Donovan’ on the other one.

“’Cetus’?” Perseus asked, curious.

“The name of my first love,” you said, “A dagger reserved for him, the other for Donovan.”

A screen popped out from the infirmary wall, a live broadcast initiating. Tyreen and Troy were standing inside the main cathedral, surrounded by crimson-robbed priests and the generals, Donovan standing behind Troy.

“Fellow brothers and sisters, word has reached from our outposts of attacks perpetrated by a rival faction who wishes to crush us,” Tyreen began, standing tall, “We shall not bend our knee to them, we shall destroy those who dare oppose us…. We move forward to obtain our birthright, the Vaults!”

“They have awakened the beast,” Troy continued, “We shall strike back with full force. They shall remember who they are dealing with…. THE CHILDREN OF THE VAULT!”

“CHILDREN OF THE VAULT!” the crowd chanted. You could hear chants outside the infirmary.

“CALYPSOS!” Dononvan shouted.

“CALYPSOS!” Moksha shouted.

“CALYPSOS!” Basil shouted.

“CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!” the crowd chanted, growing ferocious.

“Give your flesh! Take your guns! We. Shall. Not. Be. Defeated!” Tyreen lifted her Siren arm up, her tattoos glowing brightly. She was sporting a determined look, complete opposite of her earlier expression of anger. 

“If you are watching this asshole, just know we are coming to get you!” Troy pointed his blade at the surveyor, “We shall not rest until your head is on a stake!”

“CALYPSOS! FOR THE TWIN GODS!” the crowd shouted, their arms visible in some angles of the shot.

“What happened?” you asked, watching the feed. Your current state had you hidden away from the Calypsos’ matters.

“One of the priests informed me several outposts were attacked… I heard they were completely destroyed…” Jackal said, “Not much is being said, I doubt the Twin Gods want everyone to know the complete details.”

“Outposts attacked…” you whispered, gulping.

It was no coincidence. Cetus had made his move.

/Come home, please./

“Well, then, I was hoping to delay my plans for a bit, but I suppose I’d have to speed it up…” you said, getting odd looks from Perseus and Jackal.

“What are you planning to do?” Perseus asked.

“Buy time,” you said. You were hoping that your plan will work. 

\-------00000000---------

You had no time to waste, stepping on the gas as you swerved and dodged vehicles, following the trail of smoke and airships approaching the crash site. Several black cars sped by, driving your anxiety levels up.

Cetus’ men.

“Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay,” you chanted, increasing your speed. Nearing the location, you crashed your vehicle behind one of the black cars, jumping off and running towards the car on fire. Circe was laying near the wrecked car, her bodyguards cooking underneath the burning vehicle. Several armed guards were shooting other people in the wreckage.

“C-Circe!” you ran towards her, crying. 

“G-Get Blue… Blue…” she choked out. You gasped, seeing the huge gash on her back and legs, body almost ripped apart. You did as told, screaming as you saw Blue. 

“W-What have you done, Cetus?!” you shouted, picking up Blue, your white dress getting stained with blood.

“NO! NO! NO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” you screamed again, holding the little girl close to you, crying. 

“Mummy….” Blue said, weakly, reaching out to you. Sobbing and shaking, you grabbed her hand, “N-No! N-No! I’m so sorry sweetie! I’m sorry!” Her little body felt delicate, her back had been ripped open from the explosion, her legs barely hanging to her body.

Cetus emerged from the billowing smoke, expression vacant as he held a gun. Several armed guards appeared near him. He stopped a few feet away, shooting Circe who was weakly reaching out to him. 

“Sorry, this is only business,” Cetus said. The armed guards shot the other occupants of the car, blood splattering everywhere.

“She has no place for our future, dear,” Cetus said, reloading his pistol. He approached you, aiming the gun at Blue. 

“Y-YOU FUCKING MONSTER! SHE IS YOUR DAUGHTER!” You shouted, stepping away from him as you desperately held the child. 

“Leave the body-“ You slapped him, shoving past him, disappearing into the smoke. He stayed there, narrowing his eyes. The armed guards were about to chase you down, but were stopped by Cetus.

“Don’t, unless you want to get killed,” Cetus replied, “Let her go.” He was going to scold you for it later on.

You rushed to an abandoned car, crying with the child in your arms. Covering up Blue with a blanket you found, you placed her in the back seat, quickly driving off, calling someone on the phone. You gripped tightly the wheel, swerving and speeding up.

“Answer the damn phone… Answer the damn phone…” you gritted your teeth, adrenaline rushing through your body.

“Winona here, dearest, what-“

“SHUT YOUR FUCKING TRAP,” you hissed out, “Prepare an operating room, get me items for an upload transfusion!” You eyed the rearview mirror, Blue looking pale.

“W-What but this sudden, what happened-?” You cut off the woman.

“DON’T ASK FUCKING QUESTIONS, DO IT!” You shouted, reaching the main Maliwan corporate building. You received an approval from Winona who hanged up. Hissing, you crashed into the parking lot’s barrier, heading towards the lower levels, ignoring the robot guard yelling at you.

A woman in a lab coat was waiting for you on the lower deck, her brightly colored neon pink hair parted into two buns, her glasses resting at the bridge of her nose, her yellow eyes widening as she saw you in your bloody state with Blue in your arms.

“L-Little Blue!” she gasped, keying up the door to open, “W-What the hell happened?!”

“Why don’t you ask your fucking boss, Winona?!” you hissed out, “Is the room ready!?”

“Y-yes, this way!” Winona opened the doors, allowing you entrance. Several other medics and doctors were inside.

“Out,” you spat out, placing Blue on the operating table.

“Pardon?” one of the medics said.

“OUT! EVERYONE OUT! NOW!” you snarled, eyes wide. The little monster was waiting to be let loose.

“My Q-Queen, you alone can’t-“ Winona jumped back as you held a scalpel close to her face, the other medics looking at you in fear.

“Everyone. Out. Now…..” you whispered, grinning. Winona gulped, ushering everyone out. After everyone left, you locked the door, walking back towards the operating table, Blue slipping away little by little.

“I failed you…” you said, preparing the medical instruments, ignoring the blood soaking your hands, turning on the lights and the small robots to assist you in the operation, “I failed you…” In a trance, you began cutting, tearing, sewing her little body back together, adjusting and inserting metal plates and rods into her limbs. 

/ I’m the mighty Knight that protects the Queen from any harm! Who also happens to be a Princess… a Princess Knight!/

“I failed you…I failed you… I failed you…” you kept ranting, losing yourself as your hands expertly reassembled Blue’s body. Hooking up some wires into a chip on the nape of her neck, you watched as the screen’s blue bar turned white. Resuming your work, you worked on Blue’s back, adjusting the metal frame and plates keeping her spine intact. A small purple vial was present on the medical tray, the size perfect for the indent on the metal spine frame. Carefully placing it, you watched as Blue’s body jerked.

“Please be okay… Please be okay… Please be okay…” you whispered.

“UPLOAD SUCCESSFUL, INITIATING REBOOT SEQUENCE” the machine announced, beeping as a small disk spun in the console.

It felt an eternity, standing there, watching the little girl’s breathing become shallow. You didn’t feel the tears coming down your face, numb as reality hit you hard.

You screamed, throwing items around the operation room, cursing at Cetus.

“YOU FUCKING MONSTER! YOU FUCKING MONSTER! YOU FUCKING MONSTER!” You pulled at your hair, digging into the triangular scar on the back of your head. 

“REBOOT COMPLETE, WELCOME P.K.”

You were on the floor, crying, curled up.

“Mummy…?” Blue’s voice sounded from the console.

\-----000000------

A few days had passed after the broadcast, the Calypsos did not receive any messages from Master and P.K. As for the other outposts, nothing showed up, everything operating in normal capacity. The generals still kept tabs on movements online, the EchoNet forums being quiet in activity.

Pip discharged you from the infirmary, giving you the OK in your health assessment. However, there was the predicament of your hut that was still off-limits and the need for supervision since you were still recovering. You wanted to catch on fire when Pip informed you about that, tired of being in the infirmary and partly on his company. The medic general had been goading at you about how you were able to fix Troy’s spine. Your silence was irritating him.

Staying under the watch of the priests with Jackal was out of the question, some of them resentful for what had happened with Helen and how you insulted Tyreen. Another option explored were the generals housing, but all of them were busy in their activities, plus Donovan disliked you, not that you wanted to be anywhere near him. Perseus was not in an accessible housing, plus, Troy would be pushing the limits on that request.

So, it was decided that you’d be moved to the Calypsos’ main living quarters. You wanted to shrivel up.

A room was prepared by Pip with the necessary medical equipment and adjusted bed. You grimaced at the sight once again of the infirmary but now a bedroom. To boot, it was wedged between Troy’s and Tyreen’s rooms, originally the tall Calypso’s mechanic shop before Tyreen kicked him out for the noise he would make late at night. This meant either of them could come in and bother you. Troy was tolerable at the moment. You wanted Tyreen far away.

“Easy does it, come on,” Troy said, ignoring your glares. You were holding on to his arm as he led you around the courtyard in the Calypsos’ main living quarters, the fountain long gone after Tyreen destroyed it. The bedrest had taken a toll on your body, Pip ordering that you start exercising to recover muscle memory. 

Perseus and Jackal were sitting on the other side of the courtyard, watching Troy help you walk around. Tyreen was on the opposite side, observing but mostly throwing dirty looks at Perseus. Thankfully for the mechanic, Jackal blocked her view.

“Baby steps,” Troy cooed, earning a smack on his arm from you. He laughed, pinching your nose, “I have no qualms in letting go, you’re gonna get injured and back you go with Pip!” You yelpe, shaking your head while rubbing your nose.

“You need to be motivated, that seems the only thing working at the moment,” Troy teased, catching you when you stumbled, “Baby steps!” 

“Ugh, I’m going to step on your foot…” you hissed out, but not in a threatening manner. 

“I highly doubt I will feel it,” Troy lifted his boot up, showing the metal plate on it, “But you can try!” He grinned. You rolled your eyes, sighing.

“Hey, Perseus, come over here,” Troy ordered, “Switch with me!” You glanced back at Tyreen, nervous again. Every infirmary visit had been full on tension with her in the room, even as Troy joked around to get her ‘lighten’ up.

“Y-Yes, Father Troy…” Perseus approached you and Troy, allowing you to grab his arm, “L-Let’s go this way…” You nodded, following along. Troy ventured out to sit next to Tyreen, looking smug.

“They look cute together, don’t they?” Troy commented, crossing his legs, “It’s almost like watching them dance.” He didn’t receive a response from Tyreen, only a growl. He knew she was seething. 

“Maybe we should organize like a little dance for the cultists, I’m sure the psychos would like an explosive event,” Troy grinned. 

Tyreen gritted her teeth, arms crossed as she stared at you and Perseus. The mechanic was talking about something, earning a small giggle from you. While moving, you stumbled again, Tyreen getting up immediately to rush over but was pulled back by Troy.

“Where do you think you’re going.” 

Tyreen froze, glancing at Troy.

“Sit. Down,” he growled out. She complied, watching as Perseus steadied you up, Jackal lifting you up from the other side, the other person allowed near you. Between the two, you walked better, still continuing your chat with them.

Tyreen glared at Troy.

“How long are you going to keep this up…” she hissed out.

Troy leaned back, getting comfortable, “When you learn to keep your mouth shut, which we know is never.”

“I’m being serious…”

“Oh, I am too, big sis,” Troy smiled, “We do have a lifetime of this.”

Tyreen looked away, trying to hold back tears. It was non-stop verbal torture from Troy.

“She still hates you,” Troy said in sing-song manner, “And yet here you are, watching her be with someone else.”

“They are not together…” Tyreen whispered, taking deep breaths.

“But you are treating it that way, pft,” Troy snickered, watching as you walked on your own, stumbling, Perseus quickly catching you, “It’s adorable, watching love blossom in front of us. I should officiate their wedding, after all I am Father Troy-“

“SHUT UP!” Tyreen shouted, glaring at Troy, who only smiled.

She turned to face you, Perseus, and Jackal. You all were staring at her, shocked. Growling, she rushed over to you and Perseus, Troy immediately going after her.

“Tyreen!” he shouted, angry. 

She grabbed Perseus by his collar who yelped, Jackal catching you as you fell. 

“What is she to you?!” Tyreen demanded, shaking Perseus. You froze, holding on to Jackal.

/Did she mean anything to you!/

“Let him go!” Troy parted them both apart, Perseus stepping back. Tyreen shoved Troy away, still looking at Perseus, glaring at him.

/ANSWER ME!/ “ANSWER ME!” she ordered, her Siren tattoos glowing bright. 

“Get behind me, Per-“ Troy turned to face Perseus who was glaring back at Tyreen. 

“She’s my friend…The friend that you hurt!” Perseus said, angry, “I apologize my God Queen if you misunderstood anything from my interactions…”

“Why you…!” Tyreen lunged at him, Troy shoving Perseus out of the way, trying to grab Tyreen. She maneuvered out of the way, reaching for Perseus who had fallen to the floor, only to meet a dagger to her face. Tyreen stumbled back as she held her bleeding cut on her face. In the split second, she swore she saw a snake strike her.

All remained in their spots as you weakly stood in front of Perseus, holding the ceremonial dagger in your hand. Troy eyed the dagger, recognizing it.

Helen’s.

/Even while in pain, you still manage to try to kill. Pretty sick./ Troy remembered you tried to stab him back in the infirmary when he had given you the CoV mark. Now, you tried to strike at Tyreen.

Jackal helped Perseus up, tugging at him behind you. 

“Y-You cut me…” Tyreen said, standing up, looking at her bloody hand. The bridge of her nose had two small gashes. You tightened your grip on the dagger.

“I will do more than cutting if you try to harm my friend…” you spat out. The fear you had was gone for the split second.

“Jackal, Perseus, keep an eye on her,” Troy said, too calm, grabbing Tyreen by the arm, “I’ll be back.” He dragged Tyreen out of the courtyard, while she struggled against his grip.

You fell to your knees, shaking. Perseus and Jackal picked you up.

“H-Hey, I-I’m oka-Oof!” you clung to Perseus, shaking uncontrollably. Jackal placed his coat around you, rubbing your back, “Breath in… Breath out…” You closed your eyes, trying to calm down. 

“Sshhh….” Perseus gently patted your cheek, “We’re fine… We’re fine…” Jackal removed the dagger from your hand, putting it away. He was surprised on how quick you grabbed it from his bag. 

“I-I don’t think we’re fine…” you muttered, feeling more scared. 

\---------00000000--------

“Shit, shit, shit!” Basil shouted, grabbing his gun, “Shit, shit, shit!”

“Goddamnit, are you fucking kidding me…?! Of all times!” Moksha reloaded her gun, following Basil out to the Harvest grounds. Donovan and Pip were already waiting for them, glancing at the mess already scattered.

“They’ve started to throw punches,” he said, holding his shotgun. Pip took a drag from his cigarette, shaking his head, “Freaks both of them, its going to be a pain operating on Troy again once Tyreen is done beating the shit out him.”

“What makes you think it won’t be her this time around?” Moksha countered, “He’s been in a shitty mood after what happened to the plaything.”

Donovan growled at the mention of you, “Should have died from the beating Tyreen gave her.”

“Ah yes, how can we forget about Donovan’s love for the God Queen’s plaything,” Pip mused, a hiss thrown at him by Donovan, “She’s pretty popular, poor thing. Tyreen beat her up badly.”

“You should have mercy killed her then,” Donovan spat out, Moksha and Basil glaring at him.

“Right, like the plaything you had, oh, Helen, right?” Pip growled, “You of all people pulling some shit like that, I’m surprised its not you out here. I’m sure they would like to know you were the one who ordered those guards by the housing complex.” Donovan huffed, watching the scene before him.

Tyreen had deep gashes on her shoulders, arms, and part of her legs, bleeding a lot. Troy, towering over her with his jaws unhinged, lunged, roaring. He was met with a fist by Tyreen, stumbling back.

“YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?! MAKING A MOCKERY OUT OF ME?!” Tyreen yelled, punching Troy repeatedly on the face, “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED! NOW SHE HATES ME MORE!” She brought up her fist, ready to punch again before Troy bit down on her side, tearing more flesh out of her, spitting it out. He then kicked her, getting up. He stalked over to her, bleeding from his forehead. 

Tyreen threw up blood, her Siren powers activating to close up the heavy, large gashes and torn flesh. Troy kicked her again on the side, then stomped on her back, causing her to scream in pain.

“I told you I’d retaliate…” Troy said, voice gargled, “He’s under my protection…”

Tyreen remained on the ground, yelling in pain as Troy pressed his foot harder on her back.

“Should I crack a rib? I think I should…” He stomped hard, Tyreen yelling more. The generals stood by watch, waiting. This was the first time Troy had gotten the upper hand on Tyreen in one of their fights. 

“Maybe I should have brought her over, have her give you a good fucking beating like the one you gave her…” Troy stomped again, Tyreen hissing out in pain, “After all, you can heal real quick, maybe get some stabs in there… Let her go knife-nut crazy on you…”

Troy digistructed his blade out, holding it over Tyreen’s head. He heard clicking, cocking of guns.

“That’s enough Troy, you made your point,” Pip ordered, spitting out his cigarette, “Put that blade away.” The generals pointed their guns at him, aiming at his head.

Troy chuckled, throwing his blade aside, “Sibling banter, am I right?” He laughed, kicking Tyreen again before ripping one of the vials from his necklace, throwing it at her. 

“Heal yourself,” Troy spat out, shoving past the generals, leaving the Harvest ground. Tyreen remained on the ground, eyeing the red vial that glowed faintly. 

Mother. She can hear her scolding them for fighting.

Tyreen reached out for it, feeling the energy coursing through her, the injuries inflicted by Troy going away. Moksha and Basil helped her sit, Pip putting on his surgical gloves, taking out a cloth to wipe away the blood from Tyreen’s face.

“Woah, where did you get that cut from?” Pip asked, gently wiping at it.

“My plaything gave it to me…” Tyreen muttered, holding the red vial tightly. The generals looked at her in surprise. She closed her eyes, cursing at herself. 

She screwed up again. The red vial burned in her hands.

\--------0000000--------

_I see a red door and I want it painted black_  
_No colors anymore I want them to turn black  
_

__

Red. Red. Red. Red. ****

Red. ReD. Re.dD. ReD. D. ReD. ReeeeD. REEEEEEEEED.

Red. Red. Red. Red.

REDREDREDREDREDREDREDEREDEREDREDERED  
R. E. D R E D

Red red red red red red red red

What is the color of blood? Red Red Red Red Red

_I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes_  
_I have to turn my head until my darkness goes_  


__

You watched as the elevator’s numbers ascended. The once white dress was beautifully tainted in blood. The chains on your wrists, ankles, and neck were the only things weighing you down physically. 

Mentally?

Red Red Red Red Red Red Red ReD Red Red RED RED RED

No more constraints. The little monster wanted to play.

The elevator dinged, the doors opening to reveal a busy corporate Maliwan office, employees going about their business, answering phone calls, dealing with customers, unaware of the menace that had entered their quaint area. 

You stepped out of the elevator, smiling, your chains rattling. A worker stopped what they were doing, watching you in confusion.

“Uuh… misss…?”

_I see a line of cars and they're all painted black_  
_With flowers and my love both never to come back_  


__

RED RED RED RED RED RED RED RED RED RED RED RED RED RED

Your smile grew wider as put on a muzzle, clicking the contraption neatly over your mouth, a set of jaws unhinging to show curved teeth. The worker got up, pointing at you as others froze on their spots. 

/Kill them all until you see red./

_I look inside myself and see my heart is black_  
_I see my red door, I must have it painted black_  


__

You giggled, walking towards them, picking up your pace when you saw them screaming in horror, running away from you. Using the chains, you managed to whip some of them, lunging on others, tearing into their flesh. 

RED RED RED RED RED RED RED

You dug your hands into someone’s flesh, laughing. All around mayhem was going on, people trying to drag themselves away from you, others not making it down the elevator. You chased everyone down, decorating their workplace with blood, guts, and bones. 

Soon, the whole floor went quiet. You sniffed the air, your jaws clicking as you approached a small closet, opening the door. A man was there, crying.

“P-Please don’t hurt me!” he begged, horrified as he saw the bodies behind you. Wagging your finger at him, you lunged at him, his screams giving you a rush. You bit down on his face, his screams gargled with blood. Bashing his head on a shelf, you dragged his body, skipping about the mangled bodies towards the elevator. 

_Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts_  
_It's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black_  


__

__

You noticed the elevator was expecting another lift to your floor. Curious, you waited, eyes wide as armed guards rushed out. Cackling, you threw the worker’s body at them, catching them by surprise. With your chains, you whipped at them, pouncing.

“She’s on the 40th floor! I repeat, she’s on the 40th floor- GAH!” you twisted the armed guard’s head, tugging hard. Another guard tried to shoot you, getting smacked with the headless body. 

RED RED RED red red red red red red

Ripping the armed guard’s helmet, you dug your nails into his eyes, hearing him screech, thrashing under you. 

“So soft….. so soft…. So soft….” You ranted, pulling at the eyeballs, “SO SOFT SO SOFT SOFT!” The armed guard kept screaming, trying to push you away. 

The flesh was soft like little Blue’s. Her green hair caked with blood. Red.

_No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue_  
_I could not foresee this thing happening to you_  
  


__

__

Soft Soft soft osfoso ossof ossosofttt reddd reeedd red red red der der der der der soft

You groaned, grabbing the guard’s jaw, ripping it off clean from his face, laughing. He had stopped struggling a long time ago, lifeless. His lungs pushed out the last breath of air.

_I wanna see your face, painted black_  
_Black as night, black as coal_  


__

__

You descended through the floors, gracefully moving through the large crowds, painting their world red, performing your last dance in your beautiful red dress. The white dress given to you by Cetus. The one you had worn to pick your wedding dress. The one you had worn matching little Blue’s. 

The one that still matched her now red dress. Soaked in her own blood.

“RED RED RED RED!” you shouted, punching several times a Maliwan worker, “KILL THEM ALL UNTIL YOU SEE RED, RED!” You barged into an office where several corporate people were hiding, screaming as you jumped on the conference table, using your chain whips to strike at them, decapitating several of them.

As you ripped into the face of one of them, an explosion caused the walls to the conference to collapse, Cepheus and the Rat King barging in.

“ENOUGH!” Cepheus shouted, pointing his gun at you. The Rat King laughed, “You sure did a fucking mess in here, Queen. The boss is fucking pissed.” You turned to face them, tilting your head, jaws unhinged.

“Heh…” you said.

You weren’t going down without a fight.

\------000000-------

Waking up in the middle of the night was a favorite thing of yours, now with the reoccurring nightmares of old memories haunting you. Perseus and Jackal had dropped you off in your room, your mechanic friend leaving for the night and Jackal standing guard outside. You weren’t sure if he was still out there once you heard the door open. Trying to sit up, you saw Troy approach you. His jacket, held in his hand, was covered in blood, his jaws slightly unhinged. His expression was off-set. 

“You’re awake.” Stating the obvious. He tossed his jacket to the side.

You nodded, covering yourself more with the blanket, “Can’t sleep… nightmares…” His gaze softened, patting you on the head. 

“That bad, if you are waking up, huh?” Troy massaged your head. You hummed, the feeling soothing you. The bed shifted with the extra weight of him sitting down next to you. Closing your eyes, you leaned a bit to the touch.

“Why are you covered in blood…?” you asked, woozy. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Where’s Tyreen..?” you asked, sighing, your body feeling heavy. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Why are you…” you fell forward, landing on Troy’s chest, sleep winning over. He wrapped his mechanical arm around you, still massaging your head as he positioned you on his lap. You hummed a bit in your sleep, snuggling closer to him. 

Troy kept you in his lap for a good while, holding you. He could feel the healing bump on your side. He glanced backwards towards the door, feeling watched.

Tyreen was staring inside through the crack of the door. 

“You can come in,” Troy said, a little annoyed. Tyreen narrowed her eyes, allowing herself in. She had changed clothes, the previous ones covered in dirt and blood, courtesy of Troy. She walked up towards the bed, eyeing you in Troy’s arms. 

“Enjoying yourself,” Tyreen’s eye twitched.

“Absolutely, thank you for asking, big sis,” Troy grinned, receiving a glare, “We can duke it out again if you want, I have another vial available.” 

“I already used one up, Mother will be upset…” Tyreen hissed out. She reached out to touch your head, receiving a smack from Troy.

“Troy…”

“You misbehaved,” Troy growled, “Told you not to mess with Perseus and what’s the first thing you did? Tried to beat the shit out of him.” He glared, but grinned, “I have to admit he had balls to glare and talk back at you, I could feel it through me!” You fidgeted, waking up to Troy’s outburst. Both twins stared at you.

“Ugh… what?” you looked around, noticing your current position, “Oh…” You froze when you saw Tyreen. She tensed up too. 

“H-Hi doll…” she reached out again, Troy narrowing his eyes. He felt you dig your hands on him. Tyreen only patted your shoulder, pulling back. You glanced at her, then looked away. Troy covered you with the blanket.

“You can leave now, Tyreen. I will keep watch tonight,” Troy said, adjusting himself on the bed.

“I-I…”

“You. Can. Leave. Now,” Troy didn’t spare her a glance, only rubbing your back. You felt uneasy with the current mood. 

Tyreen scowled, rubbing her face in frustration. She kicked a nearby stool, walking out of the room, slamming the door. You jumped, peeking. Troy gently pushed you to the bed, adjusting the pillows and tucking you in. 

“She’ll be fine,” Troy said, hopping of the bed, making his way to a couch in the room, “She won’t be coming in here while I’m around.” You weren’t worried about that. You were more worried about Perseus.

“She won’t do anything to him either.” He picked up on your unease.

You looked at Troy who grinned back.

“What are you trying to pull…?” You asked.

“What do you mean?” Troy smirked. 

“Dragging Perseus into this bullshit…” you growled, “Into this bullshit of yours and Tyreen…” Troy sat up, somewhat curious in your comment. 

“Bullshit?”

“Yes… This stupid game of yours. You are trying to get Tyreen more jealous of him…” you glared at him, “If anything happens to him-“ Troy was quickly by your side, grabbing your chin. You gazed up.

“Are you threatening me?” Troy smirked. You were unfazed by his demeanor. 

“Yes.”

Troy leaned forward, “Maybe I should do well on that thing about tearing into your flesh.” He grinned, showing you his teeth. He was half-joking.

You only smiled, “Yeah, and I’ll use Helen’s dagger to stab you in the head as I planned before back in the cliff.” He froze. You shoved his hand away from your chin.

“How poetic, right?” you taunted, “I die by your hands and you die by your ex-lover’s dagger, a tragic story…” He walked away, throwing one of the IV stands aside. You chuckled.

“It’s the truth, I don’t know why you are upset,” you kept going. You were beyond pissed off. Tyreen’s jealousy against Perseus is what got you in this position despite that you and Perseus were only friends. With Troy’s meddling, it was getting worse. 

“Poor Helen… All she ever wanted was your love but yet you pushed her away…” you whispered, “Losing herself in that Calypso charm, devoting her entire being to you… and look what that got her.” You grunted when Troy grabbed you, pining you on the bed. He was snarling, glaring at you.

“Don’t speak of her!” He yelled, “Don’t you fucking talk of her!” You gave him a pitiful look.

“I have the right to do so, after all, I’m the one replacing her, right?” you narrowed your eyes, “This fantasy of yours? She told me what you did to the other playthings.” Troy’s eyes widen, his grip on you easing. 

“Toying with their feelings, stringing them along, before…” you made a slit throat gesture, “They go bye-bye.”

“Did she tell you about disp-“

“She told me she was the one disposing of their bodies, she told me about the pretty little words you used, feeding her attention… giving her gifts…” you took out one of her daggers from under your pillow, Troy stepping back, “Pretty little gifts like these, hooking her in… ensnaring her…” The snake sigil flashed when you moved the handle.

Troy stared at the it then at you.

“Heh, little words.. pretty words…” you held the dagger in your hands, “I’m glad she destroyed that jacket, I only liked the flames… color red…” Red as the robes the priests wore. Red as the blood oozing out of her from the gunshot to her head.

“I know what game you are trying to play Troy,” you continued, teasing a fingertip on the dagger’s blade, “Bold of you, taunting Tyreen like that. Someone is going to end up dead as always… Helen was the first one, I wonder who will be next?”

Troy looked away, growling.

“Perhaps it will be me, but I have shitty luck, so I doubt it… at least for now, I guess,” you tapped your chin, “Maybe… when you are careless, Tyreen will finish the job.” Troy stared at you. You only stared back, a small smile on your lips before frowning.

“Ever been in love?” you asked, toying with the dagger.

“Yeah…” Troy replied, looking down at the floor.

Too many times.

“Ever experienced a heartbreak?” you asked.

/This is my first heartbreak…/

“…Yes…” Troy replied, closing his eyes, “Too many…I lost count…”

“Hard to believe,” you stated, flat. Troy kicked the night stand off, hissing at you. 

“What do you know?! Cause it seems you are the heartless one here, speaking ill of the dead!” Troy was learning new things from you. Was he now doubting himself for leaving Helen? Had he been childish thinking you would view him different?

“You never answered my question,” you ignored his outburst, twirling the dagger in your hand. 

“What?”

“Back in the medical room, I asked you if she meant anything to you,” you replied, stabbing the bed, digging further, “Before Tyreen beat the shit out of me.” Your screams still haunted him. 

“I should have stopped her-“

“Did she mean anything to you,” you asked again. You no longer cared about his excuses. The beating had happened. 

Troy rubbed his face, a knot on his throat. He wasn’t sure how to reply, he wanted to move on. 

But he couldn’t. What had occurred in the arena plagued him each day, watching helplessly as Helen fought you, Tyreen ordering you to kill her and Donovan finishing her off. 

“She did. She meant everything to me,” Troy replied, sitting down on the bed.

“What happened then? You simply don’t fall out of love with someone immediately…” you said, familiar with the situation. Cetus never harmed you, but took out his anger on anyone that was close by. You were horrified, feeling trapped, waiting for him to strike you. You were blindly in love that you never it saw at first until he was slipping little by little. 

Troy shook his head, sighing, “I-It wasn’t working… between us… this was way before you came along… Her jealousy… my anger.. I guess in a way we were too similar at one point.. cancelling each other out…” He glanced at the dagger in your hand, “But I suppose we were too emotionally attached to let go of the other…”

“I tried to end it several times.. Helen lashed out, Tyreen got in my case several times…” Troy continued, “I-I was tired of Tyreen meddling in, antagonizing her… In the end.. I stayed with her to protect her from Tyreen…” All of it unraveling. 

“Of course… we know what happened,” Troy whispered, hanging his head low. 

“So now you are taking it out on Tyreen using me and Perseus,” you stated, anger in your tone, stabbing the bed again. 

“….”

You kept stabbing the bed, the fluff coming out as you dug in. Troy grabbed your arm, “Stop it.”

“No, you stop this…” you hissed out, “I’m tired being the plaything of a Siren, I refuse to be the little toy for her brat of a brother…” He pulled your arm up, your hand still holding the dagger. Lightly passing the blade of the dagger on his cheek, a small cut was left, blood droplets falling. Your breathing hitched.

Troy had a small smirk, “You get excited by blood, too? That’s what got me interested in you.” You looked at him.

/Bloodlust, it’s what got him attracted to me, the way I would kill others, the enemies. /

“I felt a rush seeing you eliminate others in the arena, I wanted for you to dominate me… to make me submit to you…” Troy leaned forward, the blood taunting you. Red. Red. Red.

“I was jealous of Tyreen having you for herself…” he continued, “But I started to notice something else in you.” He smeared his blood on your lips, “I started to see the calculating, methodical mechanic… not the plaything who liked tearing flesh apart… The one dissecting every object, expertly crafting mechanical wonders…” He remembered the tune ups of his bandit technicals, the guns that left the warehouses, the weapons you used for your fights. 

How you saved his life.

You licked your lips, tasting his blood. The little monster wanted more, you immediately squashed its urges. 

“Heh, better work more on your pretty words, Troy,” you whispered, smirking, “Helen fell for that, not me.”

Troy frowned, resting his head on your shoulder. He was sincere about his words.

Too bad you had been broken too many times.

Too bad his own reputation was his undoing.

\----0000000----

As she tugged at the door to open in the hidden wall by the Harvest grounds, Tyreen frowned at remembering Troy petting your head. You didn’t smack his hand away like you did with her, even going as far as enjoying it from the looks of it. She wanted to push Troy away from you but the memory of you falling off the hospital bed and getting injured stopped her. She didn’t want to make things any worse than what it was now.

Walking into her private garden, she kicked off her boots and dumped her jacket on the side, walking barefoot and letting her feet relax on the plush, soft grass. Tyreen walked through the small jungle of flowers, teasing them with her fingertips as she passed by. All of the plants followed her, relaxing. She approached her workbench with few flowers in pots and vases, vials placed neatly on a rack, connected to the water system of the garden. The mixture that had spilled a long time ago was cleaned off, smudging your drawing on the corner of the table. 

“You all are probably hungry, right?” Tyreen asked, opening a vial, pouring the contents into the water tank. She turned on the little machine, watching as the water turned red, then pink before deposited further into the hoses. Sprinklers went off, showering the small clusters of plants and flowers. Tyreen smiled, her garden reenergized.

In Promethea, especially in the wastes, it was difficult to grow anything with the soil quality and weather conditions. This didn’t stop Tyreen from trying, finding that she could use her Siren powers to manipulate in some part the plants.

By feeding them her blood. 

The first time she found out, it was by accident, having cut herself and some blood droplets falling on a small sapling that was struggling to survive. Before she knew it, the plant grew overnight, standing tall and healthy, revealing its beautiful flowers to Tyreen. With the revelation, she tested it out more, finally growing more plants. 

What she was able to heal flowers quickly with no problem, it was more difficult to heal people. She was unable to fully heal old injuries, only fresh ones. She had tried in vain to do that with you, Pip admonishing her for not healing you immediately after the arena fight. 

“….I fucked up,” Tyreen told the little sapling in the pot as she sat on her stool, “Fucked up bad…” She saw the sapling twist a bit. 

“I want her to like me… genuinely like me…” she continued, gently touching a petal from a nearby flower in another pot, “But she thinks I’m a monster for being a Siren…” Tears were threatening to fall again. She admitted she wasn’t the greatest person ever or a saint, being guilty of killing previous playthings. You did keep her ‘entertained’ but her view of you changed little by little as she got to spend more time with you. Despite her way of doing things, Tyreen enjoyed your company even if the majority of the time she was the one putting ‘effort’ in it.

You were stuck because you are her plaything.

She supposed, in the end, she wanted to be your friend, as strange as it sounded. Her jealousy with Perseus clouded her thoughts, angry that someone else sharing that space with you. In a way, she felt she could be more of ‘herself’ around you than the God Queen. Sure, you didn’t want her attention like her other playthings, but you were genuine about it. It felt…

Normal.

“Even Troy has a better time talking to her… even after the whole Helen shit…” she whispered, resting her head on her arms on the bench, “I can’t do anything, she freaks out… my fault for what I did to her…” The sapling tapped her Siren arm.

“I… I want to tell her I’m sorry.. I wish I could take it back… I still have nightmares of her screams…” Tyreen covered her face, now crying, “I just… being those whole God Queen thing… and the whole prick taunting us… my powers not working… It piled up.” Several of the flowers closed up, as if crying with her. 

She could feel the grass underneath her wilt, then regrow. Her garden was reacting to her emotions. 

“I’m sorry… I know my powers affect all of you..” Tyreen whispered, wiping her tears, “My own brother hates me too… It’s not exactly I can talk to my generals about anything…” The sapling grew a bit, reached to her face, wiping a tear.

“Heh, to think that some flowers care for me…” she mused, watching as the sapling grew a flower bud, opening to reveal a red carnation. Tyreen blinked, touching the petals, the flower leaning forward. 

“A red carnation…?” Tyreen continued petting the flower.

/You need to learn to keep your mouth shut./

Tyreen growled, the flower flinching. She shook her head, “Oh, its not you.. I just.. would she like flowers? She doesn’t seem like the flower type… I don’t know much about mechanical gadgets or anything.” You were always covered in grease or blood. Never in flowers.

Tyreen eyed the rest of her garden, seeing more carnations clustered together, “I don’t think it will hurt to try… right?” The carnation flower tapped at her hands as if acknowledging her response. 

\-------000000000---------

Cepheus tightened the chains around you, bloody and bruised from his fight against you. The Rat King tied up your legs, laughing as you tried to kick him.

“I wonder how it would feel with your body thrashing underneath-“ Cepheus growled, glaring at the Rat King.

“She doesn’t belong to you, keep your mouth shut,” Cepheus said, roughly grabbing your hair, “And you…. You will answer to this….”

You screeched, thrashing, trying to bite him as he slapped you. It took a lot of effort from the bandit lords to subdue you, especially with your jaw muzzle on, the Rat King getting the bad end of the stick to get an opening move on you.

Cepheus took out a taser, zapping you at the nape of your neck, causing you to screech out, head limping forward. Katagawa Jr. barged in, horrified as he looks at the scene. He was on the verge of a breakdown.

“You better fix this shit! She killed my entire staff!” he yelled. He was immediately surrounded by several armed guards, guns pointing at him. Katagawa immediately raised his hands in defense, afraid. Cepheus and the Rat King looked at him in disgust.

“Don’t threaten Master in front of us…” one of the armed guards hissed out. The lasers of the guns aimed directly at his heart.

Cetus walked in, a scowl adorning his stoic face, fixing his gloves, “What have I said about proper etiquette, Katagawa? Don’t forget I’m the one allowing your family to retain control of Maliwan.” Katawaga bowed his head, hissing, “I’m aware, sir… Doesn’t excuse HER from what she did…”

You let out a growl, breathing heavily. Cetus approached you, kneeling, tilting your head up, “Dear, you made a big mess here. Perhaps a few days out of the city will clear your mind?” You snapped your teeth at him, screeching and glaring at him. Cepheus zapped you again.

“Take her away, she needs to be reeducated again, Cepheus,” Cetus ordered, patting your head, “I want her back in pristine condition, understood?” He couldn’t afford to throw away his toy, having invested in you for a long time.

Cepheus nodded, “Yes sir.” The Rat King chuckled as he and Cepheus dragged you away. You were thrashing, screaming threats at the Cetus. Katagawa was relieved when you were out sight. 

“What the fuck did you see in her?” Katagawa questioned, checking the soles of his feet covered in blood and guts.

“Bloodlust,” Cetus answered, “Pure, unhinged bloodlust. You wouldn’t understand the fine art of fighting for your life, survival.” Katagawa was confused. Cetus waved off at him, “I’ll have my men clean this mess up, you go meet up with the Junos, don’t let them see this mess.”

“Y-Yes sir…” Katagawa replied, bowing before rushing off. 

Cetus glanced at a vase with carnation flowers, similar to the ones of the flower crown Blue made for you. Your expression as he crushed them flashed in his mind, pure rage and fear. His hand twitched, grabbing the vase and throwing it across the room, startling everyone. 

“What are you doing standing there, GET TO WORK!” he shouted, everyone scrambling. Cetus stormed off, holding the crushed flower in his hand.

He couldn’t get attached to a broken toy.

\--------000000--------

Carrying a small box, Tyreen ventured back to her personal room, eyeing the door not too far from hers.

Your room. 

Last she left, Troy was still in there with you. Looking at the contents of her box, she placed it on the floor, tip-toeing to your door, checking to see if it was unlocked. Slowly, she turned the doorknob, silently cursing at the door creaking. Peeking in, she saw your sleeping form, covered in blankets. She eyed the couch, finding it empty.

Troy was gone. 

She glanced at Troy’s door, wondering if he had stepped out for a moment. Taking chance, she went to retrieve the box, quickly going into your room. You hadn’t budged from your sleep. Tyreen placed the box down, opening the flaps and taking out a medium-sized, clear glass vase, a small container filled with water, and a small bouquet of flowers, freshly cut. Eyeing the door from time to time, she assembled the arrangement, placing it on the nightstand next to your bed. The flowers slightly moved as Tyreen gave them a bit more glow, gently patting them.

Tyreen observed you for a while, reaching out with her Siren hand. A faint glow emanated from her hand, small swirls of energy pouring into your body. You hummed, snuggling more into your blankets.

“..…” 

Tyreen quietly walked out of the room, closing the door. 

You opened your eyes, turning around in bed to look at what she brought in, half expecting some weird cult object. 

The purple hyacinths stared back at you from the nightstand. You reached out to touch one, admiring the soft feel of it. You swore the flowers leaned to your touch. This type of flowers was not native to Promethea, considered exotic from another Terra planet. You wondered where she got them from, highly doubting the CoV greenhouse had space. 

Inspecting one of the purple hyacinths, you could observe that the flowers were well taken care of, no wilts or damages to the stems. You stared at the flower, then at the door. An odd feeling arose in you.

You knew what the flower meant.

‘Please forgive me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :v Oh shucks, seems like things are getting out of control for everyone! 
> 
> I wanted to try something new with song lyrics for this chapter, seeing as how ‘heavy’ stuff was revealed about the reader. Let me know what you all think. I won’t be doing it for EVERY chapter. Been having a hard time these past days and I was listening to these songs plus others while writing the chapter, I figured incorporate them.
> 
> Kudos and comments feed this tiny gremlin!


	6. Family Matters: Family is (not) Forever (Part 3, Final)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge is a dish best served cold. Sometimes, you have to family-size it to include everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Extreme violence/blood, explicit violence
> 
> As always, not beta-read, only pawed at by my cat. Kudos and comments feed this tiny gremlin!
> 
> *There will be slight html errors, I tried to fix them but AO3 wasn't picking the codes correctly.. .ugh.

\-----00000-------

An old video starts with a hearty melody, several Crimson Lance soldiers are seen in the background with civilians, waving at the camera. An announcer speaks with a joyous tone:

_Here at Atlas, we strive to provide the best for those under our control! With the best weapons, with our army, with our company values, here, you will feel at home! Join Atlas, NOW!_

Several people come into view, the camera panning to them. They are all smiling, a bit forceful.

“Atlas helped me! They provided me a home!” “Atlas is the absolute best ever here in Promethea!” “I feel right at home here with Atlas!” “Atlas is the best!”

_Our very own Supreme Commander Gaia speaks to all those debating in joining us!_

The camera pans to young woman wearing a regal red and black Crimson Lance armor, towering over everyone, speaking to a group of soldiers before turning to face the camera, smiling, somewhat genuine.

“With Atlas, you don’t have to be afraid of bandits and the harsh life of Promethea,” Gaia said, still smiling, her visible Siren tattoos on her face glowing dimly, “Here, we are family.” Several kids run into view, giggling. A child stands out from the group, the young Steele hugs Gaia, grinning.

“Atlas is family!” the children cheer, raising their arms up, waving and jumping.

_Atlas is indeed family!_

The video rewinds again and again. Hephaestus stops the video where Gaia and Steele are in the same shot, punching the screen. He digs further into the electronic device, ignoring the jolts of electricity running through his arm, ripping out the wires.

“Fuck your family…” Hephaestus hissed out, “You fucking monster…” He glances at the crib, hearing movement. His outburst had woken up his small roommate. Hephaestus got up, quietly approaching the crib, peeking inside.

You looked up at him, annoyed and sleepy. Growling, you kick in place, demanding attention. 

“Woke you up, eh? Sorry,” Hephaestus said, picking you up. Your eyes fall on the broken screen, then at your brother. He doesn’t anything as he pats your back, humming. You coo, snuggling to him. 

“Don’t worry baby sis… The monster won’t get you here…. She’s dead,” Hephaestus whispered, lulling you to sleep. He sighs, his gaze locked on a small photo frame above the crib. The photo displays Gaia, looking old, exhausted and sickly, holding an infant in her arms, the blanket wrapping the infant has a name embroidered on it:

“Andromeda H. J.”

Hephaestus frowns, carefully placing you back on the crib, tucking you in. The blanket he uses is the same one in the photo. It won’t be long before the blanket is too small for you.

“I’m your only family,” Hephaestus said, flipping the photo frame to face down on the shelf.

\-----00000----

“Was she your only child?” you asked Jackal, laying on your bed. He was fixing items around your room, cleaning the night stand where the bouquet of purple hyacinths was at. The priest had come in late at night at the request of Troy, perhaps the little argument about Helen being too much for the Calypso. Both had missed Tyreen walking in with the flower arrangement by a few minutes. So far, neither made a comment about it during the night arrangement exchange.

“That I know of, yes,” he chuckled, frowning, “I jest. She was the only one, my partner and I separated when she was a child.” He touched one of the flowers, admiring the soft texture of the petals.

“May I ask, what happened?” you inquired, sitting up. Jackal took one of the purple hyacinths, holding it between his calloused fingertips, “Bandit life you know? Plus, I was an extreme alcoholic. Despite us being psychos, she had enough mentality to sober up for our kid. I had a hard time.” 

You recalled him being drunk several times in the sermons, the other psychos joining. Several instances, you had to hide the alcohol from the lot. 

“You’ve sobered up now,” you commented. Since Helen’s death, the priest had refrained from drinking. 

“Late for that... even though Helen said she didn’t mind me being drunk,” Jackal said, gazing at the flower, “I still looked after her even during that state… Just a bunch of what ifs…”

“Beating yourself up still for not stopping her?” you offered, Troy doing the same. You pitied the priest more than Troy. 

“Yes… you should still be careful with the Calypsos,” Jackal said. That was a given for you, not needing extra advice on that. The twins knew you were extremely angry at them. They still treated you as a toy, fighting for your attention.

“I know. I sometimes wish this is just a fucking nightmare, the other me waiting to wake up, be back with the other bandits…” you said, wanting your brother around. It had been more than 15 years since he was killed.

“Other bandits? The Skullmashers?” Jackal looked at you. Your first encounter with the priest was Jackal praising the Calypsos for destroying them. It never crossed your mind that you’d be having a ‘heart-to-heart’ chat with that same man later on.

“Them, or the Vipers… only when my brother was alive…” you replied, sighing. The Vipers before they sold you out to the bandit lord who ruined further your life.

“What about your parents? They weren’t in the picture?” Jackal pushed a chair over, sitting by your bedside. He placed the flower back in the vase.

You shook your head, frowning, “Never knew them. It was always my brother and me. The few times I’d ask him, he’d dodge the question… So, I assume they passed away when I was an infant…” It was part of bandit life, dying either by a bullet, the wildlife eating you, or being exterminated by corporations encroaching on the bandit camps. 

“At least you somewhat know about them,” Jackal said. You raised an eyebrow at this.

“What do you mean?” You asked, curious. You had nothing from your parents, not even a memento.

“Your name.”

You blinked, “M-My name?”

“What’s your name?” Jackal asked, smiling, “Known you for a while already, a year or so since you’ve been here. Odd, I know. But I’m sure you prefer something other than ‘the God Queen’s plaything.’”

“Oh…” you look down, playing with the blanket, “Andromeda…”

Jackal extended his hand out, “Jackal, but you know that already.” You looked at his hand then at Jackal.

/What’s your name?/ Perseus was the first one to bother asking. 

You shook his hand, grinning, “Heh.” An unlikely ally, friend with the priest.

“Your name is what your parents gave you, you still have something from them,” Jackal said. 

“You don’t say…” you replied, amazed at the revelation. It gave you a bit of comfort in your current state. Perhaps that was their only and last ‘gift’ to you before passing away. 

Perhaps.

\-----0000000-----

Three individuals plus Katagawa Jr. were seated in a large, dimly lit conference room, the massive blue seat at the head of the table empty of its occupant. Winona, wearing a business suit, held a tablet in her hands, a neutral expression adorning her face. She stood next to the empty seat, eyeing everyone.

“How long is Master going to have us wait?” one of the individuals asked, an older woman. Her purple hair was braided, her tanned skin wrinkly and marked with scars; an emblem of sergeant major is marked on her neck. She is wearing a green military bomber jacket, an insignia of ‘Dahl’ marked on the sleeve. Flicking a gold lighter, she lights up a cigar. 

“Master is attending a personal family matter at the moment, Lady Constance,” Winona informed, adjusting her glasses, “He’ll be joining us shortly. He has asked me to commence the meeting.”

“About time then!” Katagawa Jr. said, stretching back, “One more minute and I would have hauled ass out of here.”

“Please keep your foul language to a minimum, Katagawa. You know how Master dislikes improper language,” the older man in the group said. He was wearing a brown and light green business suit, bald save for his massive white beard, small reading glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The insignia of “Jakobs” was pinned on his tie.

“Ugh, you don’t have to deal with him on a daily basis, Frederick,” Katagawa said, adjusting the sleeves of his suit, “Having to put a courteous face in front of others back in Maliwan is exhausting.”

A hearty laughter was emitted from the younger woman next to Katagawa, “Oh, Katagawa, you’re just upset that Master is keeping you on hold on that merger with Atlas! That handsome CEO, Rhys was it?” Katagawa sneered at her. The younger woman stuck her tongue out at him, giggling. She rested a well-manicured hand on the table, using her other hand to flip her blue curly hair, then adjusting her white coat. Her most curious feature were the pearl earrings she was wearing with the Vault symbol engraved on them.

“Watch it, Diana,” Katagawa muttered. Diana merely winked at him, “Jealous that the CEO asked me out on a date?”

“Everyone, please, we must start the meeting,” Winona pleaded, bringing up a screen with several planets, red markers scattered about, “As you all know, an attack was launched against the bandit cult known as the Children of the Vault by one of our own.”

“Shucks, I’m sure Master is pissed,” Constance muttered, taking a drag out of her cigar, “We should have razed those bastards either way and retrieve the missus.” 

“I offered to do that, but he scoffed at the idea,” Katagawa said, “The company has been sending the Calypsos supply crates in exchange for an army to prepare for the Atlas siege. My bots would have been sufficient for the task.”

“Master’s orders still stand that no one is to continue any attacks against the Calypsos. Katagawa will continue shipping out weapon parts,” Winona informed, bringing up an image of the twins, “We have received intel that Tyreen Calypso was the one who inflicted severe injuries on our Queen. Luckily for us, she made it out alive.”

“Huh, the reason for those attacks, I assume,” Frederick said, looking at Winona, “Who ordered the attack?”

Winona took a deep breath, “Lady Blue.” The room fell silent, even Katagawa gazed down. 

“That young and already participating in the family business,” Diana commented.

“Our informant within the cult has been keeping tabs on our Queen. They report that she has made a steady recovery. They also informed there is trouble in the inner circle of the Calypsos,” Winona said, “Master wishes to see how this will play out.”

“That Let’s Flay they had was brutal even by my standards,” Frederick said, rubbing his forehead, “What was she again? Troy Calypso’s lover?”

“Yes, seems like his right-hand man, Prophet Donovan, was behind the push for her to be in the fight,” Winona replied, “Our Queen refused to kill her at Tyreen Calypso’s orders.”

“Ever merciful,” Constance said, “Ungrateful bastards.” Her tone was laced with anger.

“Bandits are such crude bastards,” Diana said, frowning, “But I suppose there is a market for any kind of uncouth behavior in the EchoNet. To think that our poor Queen is surrounded by such group, such filth.” She fanned herself, a look of disgust on her face.

“Unfortunate that Master doesn’t want us destroying them,” Frederick said, crossing his arms.

“What does he want to see?” Katagawa asked, tapping his fingers on the table, “How long it will take for them to kill each other?” Katagawa needed the CoV alive at the moment.

Winona brought several displays to each member, showcasing photos, “Master will be sending these photos when the time is appropriate.” She awaited their reactions.

“W-Wait, what? Are you serious?” Frederick stood up from his seat, shocked, “Are we going to be giving out that sensitive information?!”

Diana clapped, gleeful, “Oh, I think it’s wonderful! I love seeing the Calypsos squirm!” A devilish smirk adorned her lips.

“Master likes to show his cards from time to time, old man,” Constance said, laughing, putting out her cigar. 

Katagawa scrolled through the photos, glancing at Winona, “Particular reason for this?”

“Master has reason to believe someone is pulling the strings behind the cult,” Winona replied, “These past years the Children of the Vault have grown exponentially since the death of El Capitan. Their influence has expanded across other planets and other galaxies.”

“He wants to smoke them out with this tantalizing information,” Constance snickered, “I like this…”

All they had to do was wait for the Calypsos to take the bait.

\------000000--------

A few days passed by since the incident in the courtyard, no one bringing the topic up during another outing in the same location. You had made steady progress, walking on your own without help but taking longer breaks due to the mild pains creeping up once a in a while on your side. For situations like this, the twins would heal you to ease the pain the same way when you were in the infirmary.

But you wanted both of them far away from you. 

You were still angry at Troy for what had happened in the bedroom. At your insistence, Jackal remained by your side during the nights to keep Troy out of your room. With Tyreen, you were extremely upset at her for trying to hurt Perseus. Your feelings towards her for being a Siren never changed, even with the little flowers she left behind seeking forgiveness for the beating.

“You’re gripping that too tight, that’s why you bust the spring mechanism.”

“What?” you blinked, holding a small gadget in your hand. 

“You were tightening the bolt too much, its going to snap,” Perseus said, pointing at the gadget, “Loosen it. Same thing with your jaw, you were grinding your teeth again.”

Relaxing your jaw, you sighed, putting the gadget down on the table. The Calypsos were seated far off, observing your interactions with Perseus. Jackal was dismissed for the day, returning to his duties at the cathedral, another priest taking over to escort your mechanic friend around. That priest stood away, sneering at your prescence.

“Lovely group we have today,” you muttered, loosening the bolt, “Priest that hates me, the God Queen that hates you, and the neutral Father Troy in the middle.”

“A triad, perfect balance,” Perseus mused, “What better way to spend the day?”

“I wish I was at the warehouse…” you whispered, “Or in my old garage… surrounded by scrap, tinkering the day away…”

“Sounds lovely,” Perseus said, “Same, but I don’t mind spending the day here with you.”

“At least you sneak in stuff for me to work with,” you held up the little gadget, a toy skag, “But I itch for guns and tune-ups.”

“You’re banned, remember? You may be walking and all, but you are in no condition to go back to the warehouse,” Perseus reminded you, “Last time you were falling asleep, remember?” 

“Ugh, I know…” you slumped over the table, eyeing the Calypsos. Troy, grinning, waved at you while Tyreen stared. You weren’t sure if she was staring at you or trying to unlock a mental Siren power to combust Perseus. Either way, you ignored them both.

“I used to fall asleep while working on stuff back at the Blitzkrieg camp,” Perseus said, winding-up the toy skag, setting it on the table where it hopped around, “My brother would scold me for it, almost lost a finger during a project.” You perked up on this information, ignoring the toy skag’s jaws biting at your arm.

“You didn’t tell me you had a brother,” you said, curious. 

Perseus shrugged, “You didn’t ask? Heh, what about you?” You punched him lightly on the arm, grinning. 

“Rude, you didn’t ask either,” you countered, laughing, “My brother was the one who taught me everything I know about robotics and mechanical work…” You smiled, remembering your brother’s treasure trove of a workshop. Perseus chuckled, grabbing the toy skag that fell on its side.

“That explains the awesome work you always delivered. My brother only showed me the basics, then from there I went my separate way,” Perseus explained, sounding annoyed at the last part. 

“Is he…?” You frowned, not wanting to upset him.

“He’s alive… if that’s what are you wondering. He was sent to another outpost while I remained here in the main hub at the warehouse,” Perseus replied, “…I checked after the attacks….” He looked irritated.

“I didn’t mean-“ 

“Can we talk about something else?” Perseus asked, “I’m not that great when it comes to talking about… my brother.” You nodded, mildly surprised at his sudden mood change. He was the last person you wanted angry. 

“….” You looked up, feeling awkward. 

“What’s your game plan?” Perseus asked, changing the subject while working on the toy skag.

“Get the hell out of here, that’s for sure,” you mumbled, earning a confused look from Perseus.

You rolled your eyes, “I meant from the Calypsos’ living quarters…” He didn’t buy it.

“I’m surprised you haven’t attempted that before,” Perseus noted, adjusting the skag’s jaws. He pushed it forward towards you. Carefully, you picked it up, inspecting it.

“Out there, he’s waiting,” you whispered, fixing and making adjustments to Perseus’s gadget, “In here, they are waiting…” You glanced at the twins. The Calypsos were talking to each other surprisingly.

“This Cetus guy… that terrifying he is?” Perseus asked, receiving the gadget from you. He wind-up the toy skag again, setting it down. The toy skag opened its jaws, snapping it over and over again, remaining in place. You poked at it, your finger getting caught in between the jaws.

“He is, smiling while committing atrocities and punishing others,” you muttered, removing your finger from the toy’s jaws, “I told you what he has done during my time with him.”

“How come you haven’t told them? The Twin Gods?” Perseus inquired, taking the toy away from you, “Pft, you somehow mess up the spring mechanism.” You huffed. 

“Do not, and well, its my business for now…. I have yet to get even with Donovan,” you replied.

“We’re talking about a general here, Father Troy’s right-hand man… I mean, I want to help, but you are risking a lot here...” He glanced quickly at the twins then back at you, “That’s why I asked, what’s your game plan?”

“Donovan wants me dead, but the Calypsos keep getting on his way… I have to ‘help’ him out on that,” you said, tapping at the table, “That’s why I’m withholding information… if they take the bait, just maybe my plan will work.”

“And for that to happen, you need to be up 100% good to go,” Perseus mused, “Baby steps…” He dodged another punch from you, laughing. You grinned, not seeing Tyreen’s fists clench, Troy smirking next to her. 

It was difficult to tell whose feelings were getting toyed with.

\------000000--------

After the recording of the commercial, Gaia was surrounded by the camera crew, a stylist retouching her hair and a soldier fixing her armor. She sighed in annoyance, seeing Alphonso Knoxx approach. The young Steele remained nearby, watching.

“Supreme Commander Gaia, wonderful performance, I’m sure the Atlas board of directors will appreciate your time,” he said, snickering as he lit a cigar, “Now they should stop pestering you.”

“What is it now, Knoxx? Why isn’t my son here? He was supposed to be in this Atlas reel,” Gaia shooed off the camera crew and stylists, ushering Steele to get close, the little girl complying.

“About that… Hephaestus refused to board the ship, he took off to Eden-6, again,” Knoxx replied, shaking his head, “Professor Juno is heading that way to retrieve him.”

“What’s the point of having you as his detail if he runs off?” Gaia complained, holding Steele’s hand as she walked back to a tent, several soldiers saluting her. Various screens displayed Atlas territories in the galaxy, Promethea in the middle, others marked with Vaults.

“I can handle soldiers, not brats. Besides, he needs a break, commander. Can’t expect a kid to be conducting experiments all day,” Knoxx countered, “He will get burned out.” Gaia paused, turning to face Knoxx. The soldiers in the tent tensed up, little Steele observed, amused.

No one dared to question or answer back to the Supreme Commander of the Crimson Lance.

Knoxx stood erect, unfazed by the tension in the air. Besides his own duties as a general, he was assigned to supervise Hephaestus, Gaia’s son. The Atlas Siren’s son. One of the most important assets of Atlas.

Gaia’s expression hardened, but she sighed, “I suppose you’re right, I have been pushing him to show his true potential, for Atlas. Please notify me when my husband finds him.” She dismissed Knoxx who saluted, Steele grinning and waving at the general.

“Now, Steele, let me show you the territories we possess, as a Siren and an important member of Atlas, it is our duty to uphold what is ours…” Gaia said, directing Steele to the map. The little girl nodded, paying attention, her own Siren tattoos glowing bright alongside Gaia’s.

Knoxx blew out smoke once he stepped out of the tent, shaking his head, “Poor kid, his own mother trading him for another child.” 

Hephaestus had shitty luck.

\------0000000-------

The caravans, bandit technicals, and war technicals were set to go, all armed cultists were waiting for the word to depart. Troy and Tyreen gave one final inspection before meeting up with Donovan and Basil, the two generals accompanying them for the raid. Several weeks had passed since the last Let’s Flay, a sense of normalcy returning to the CoV, providing a breath of relief for the Calypsos. Smaller raids were conducted to distract from the unease the higher-ups were feeling, with the current, planned raid being one of the CoV’s biggest one to date. 

After the attack on the outposts, skirmishes with other bandit groups increased. The clan that kept popping up were the Junkers, growing bold. They had been playing guerilla tactics on the smaller CoV outposts.

“Any activities from the Junker bandits?” Troy asked, checking his EchoNet device. No taunting messages or cryptic photos. Silence was never a good thing for Troy Calypso.

“From what our scouts report, nothing so far,” Donovan replied, eyeing his side.

“We’re in front of you, Prophet Donovan,” Troy muttered, not looking up from his EchoNet device. The general growled, huffing. Tyreen stared at Donovan, eye twitching a bit. Basil sighed, knowing he’d have to mediate any arguments between the twins and his fellow general. To a certain extent, they blamed Donovan for their deteriorating relationship with you. 

The general had taken notice of your presence by the main warehouse where you were talking to Perseus and Jackal, the former working on a vehicle. Tyreen was on edge with Perseus’ presence while Troy gave her warning looks. 

“Basil, signal everyone that we’re ready for departure,” Troy said, shoving past Donovan, Tyreen following him towards the warehouse. Donovan faced forward, angry. Basil whistled for the armed cultists to board their vehicles, mouthing a ‘sorry’ at Donovan before departing at his technical. The general growled, heading to Troy’s bandit technical.

Jackal tugged at your arm, signaling the arrival of the twins to you and Perseus. Annoyed, you adjusted your blanket around your form, waiting. Perseus didn’t stop working, not wanting to see Tyreen death glares directed at him. 

“We’re heading out, be on your best behavior,” Troy said, patting you on the head.

“What am I going to do? Kill people with my blanket?” you mused, flapping your blanket around. Jackal rubbed his forehead, worried. Pip had forbidden you from returning to work at the warehouse. By now, you were walking around with no help and back at your hut much to the dislike of the twins. You were more than delighted at the change of scenery. 

“I hope that’s not a challenge you’re setting for yourself,” Troy poked your forehead, “Pip’s threat still stands, full body cast if you don’t behave.” He was met with a growl from you. But it wasn’t directed to him.

But to Tyreen.

The God Queen was glaring at Perseus who refused to make eye contact with her, keeping himself busy, working on the bandit technical on the bay area. Troy smacked her arm, causing her to flinch. 

“Stop it,” he hissed out, “What did I tell you…” Tyreen directed her glare at Troy, rubbing her arm. 

“Shut up…” she muttered.

“Are you two done? Prophet Donovan looks like he’s about to explode in the vehicle,” you gestured at the general, somewhat amused. It would be a nice view, the little monster thought.

“Behave, eat well, all that fun stuff, yada, yada…” Troy repeated, “I mean it, behave. Jackal, please keep an eye on her.” 

“Yes, Father Troy,” Jackal said, bowing. You pushed Troy’s hand from messing with your hair, the latter laughing before walking away. Tyreen remained in her spot, visibly nervous. 

“…We’ll be back in a few days..” she whispered, now approaching you, “…Don’t overexert yourself, okay?” You stared at the scars on her nose and part of her cheeks. Tyreen hadn’t bothered to fully heal them after you attacked her with the dagger weeks ago.

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, blinking. She frowned at your neutral response, but nodded, reaching out to grab your hand. 

You pulled away. 

“Prophet Pip will be visiting you for another checkup,” Tyreen said, trying to save face, “I hope it goes well.” She paused, seemingly debating with herself before shaking her head. Tyreen gave Jackal a curt nod, turning around to leave. Crossing your arms, you watched the caravans depart, annoyed. 

“Good grief,” you muttered. At least this time the twins didn’t ask for a good luck kiss. They wouldn’t be open to a good luck slap.

“If looks could kill,” Perseus whispered, glancing at you and Jackal.

“We’d be all dead,” Jackal replied, sighing.

\------000000------

A young Hephaestus tinkered with a small robot’s chassis, growling and gritting his teeth. His father, Pietro Juno, sat next to him, looking outside the window of the spaceship currently transporting them to Promethea. The man touched his arm, bandaged from bites inflicted by Hephaestus.

“Your mother and I were worried. You shouldn’t have left General Knoxx’s base without an escort,” Pietro said, turning to look at his son, “Eden-6 is a dangerous planet, what if Grandpa Douglas didn’t know you were visiting?”

Hephaestus ignored him, crushing the small robot in anger. 

“Hepha…” Pietro started.

“At least he knows I exist,” Hephaestus said, throwing the remains of the robot to the floor, startling the Crimson Lance soldiers nearby. They knew better to stay away from the Supreme Commander’s son. He was known to have an explosive behavior.

“Hepha…!” Pietro grabbed his son’s arm, “This better be the last time you take off, do I make myself clear?” Hephaestus hissed at him, the young boy’s sharp teeth visible for all to see. 

“Don’t you and her have other toys to play with?” Hephaestus growled out, “Those other children in the ward…” Pietro pulled away, picking up on his son’s intent to bite him again.

“I think her favorite toy is that stupid Steele,” Hephaestus muttered, crossing his arms, “’Oh, my little Siren sister, I need to show her the ropes,’ blah! Might as well give her my room and the Juno last name. I’ll go sleep with the stupid skags because I’m the Atlas pet!” He was holding back tears.

Pietro remained quiet during his son’s rant. Hephaestus snarled, biting down on his own hand. 

“Hepha, stop that!” Pietro pried off his son’s hand from his mouth, seeing the large gash Hephaestus’ teeth left behind, “We need a medic, NOW!” 

“Yes, sir!”

“I want to go home…” Hephaestus cried out, kicking in his seat.

“We are going home, son,” Pietro tried to comfort him. Hephaestus shook his head, angry.

“Not with you and her….” Hephaestus sobbed out.

Home was anywhere but Promethea. Family was not Gaia and Pietro.

\-----00000--------

The stench of death permeated the area, the thick smoke from the burning buildings and vehicles choked the air and shell casings covered the ground. Scraping of metal meeting the solid ground echoed, Troy hunched over, jaws split open as he dragged a squirming bandit by the leg.

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” the bandit shouted, struggling and clawing at the ground, a blood trail being left behind. Troy paid no attention to the pleas of the bandit, only grunting. 

“I’LL GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANT! Y-YOU WANT INFORMATION! RIGHT?!” the bandit pleaded, but screaming when Troy crushed their ankle with his mechanical hand. 

“You talk too much…” Troy growled, garbled from his jaws split open. He tossed the screaming bandit in front of him, raising his blade up and decapitating them. Their head rolled over, landing by someone who stood by, watching. Troy looked up, seeing a woman clad in armored gear, her old age showing through the heavy wrinkles on her faces, her pepper frizzy hair all over the place, though her pink eyes held mischief in them.

“Bravo, Troy Calypso!” the woman said, clapping, “You sure know how to make an impression.” The woman grinned, showing some gaps on her teeth. She digistructed a shotgun, steadying it in her hands.

Troy popped his jaws back, adjusting them, “I should say the same to you. You’ve been a thorn on our side, raiding our outposts, Leech.” He lifted his blade up, slamming it to the ground. 

“Word has reached that someone else kicked your asses, several outposts destroyed,” Leech snickered, pumping the shotgun, “Not so immortal after all, right, Twin God?” 

The mysterious PK’s doing that turned into a massive headache. 

The Calypso growled, “You will pay for messing with us…” He had to buy time for backup, Troy feeling his own energy draining fast. After days, weeks of healing you, his vitality was low. The remaining red vial on his necklace was glowing dim. 

“Haha, I think I will take my chances, my boys are on their way here to finish you and your lackies off!” Leech said, gleeful as she sprayed bullets on Troy. He dodged, his movements sluggish, using his blade as shield. The old woman caught on, continuously shooting.

“HAHAHA! Look at you running away from this poor old lady!” Leech shouted, chasing after Troy. She switched to a Jakobs pistol, quickly shooting at Troy’s feet. He kept dodging and dodging, a bullet grazing his leg.

“Fuck…!” he hissed out, breathing heavily. 

“I got you now, Calypso!” Leech yelled, taking out her shotgun. Several other bandits appeared, surrounding the area, Leech laughed. Troy looked around, cursing. The other armed cultists, Basil and Donovan were ways away from his fight, his forces thinned out.

“My boys are here! You’re fucking dead now!” the old woman cackled, aiming her shotgun at him, “I shall be known as the God Slayer- GAH!” A bullet went through her head, Leech sniped from a distance. Her body fell forward, twitching. Troy caught his breath, glancing at the area where the shot came from.

Tyreen was aiming through a scope, readying another shot when the remaining bandits descended to Troy’s area. She took out several bandits, reloading the sniper rifle. Using this opportunity, Troy did quick work of other assailants, other cultists arriving to help out.

“FOR THE CALYPSOS!” they shouted, colliding with the remaining bandits from Leech’s group. Sounds of shots, explosions, and screams came to a stop, Troy and the cultists emerging victorious. 

“This camp is ours now, Leech is dead!” Troy announced, raising his blade. The cultists chanted and whooped in victory. Tyreen approached the group, digistructing her sniper rifle away, “Donovan’s group is scouting the area around for any stragglers.”

Troy nodded, putting his fist out. Tyreen glanced at it then at Troy before gently fist bumping him back. Things were still awkward between them, but they acted ‘normal’ to keep up appearances for the cultists.

The other armed cultists gathered around, celebrating their victory. Others bowed in reverence to Tyreen and Troy, the latter stumbling when he tried to walk towards Leech’s body. This alarmed them all, Tyreen rushing over to him. 

“I-I need to sit down-“ Troy fell to his knees, a wave of nausea hitting him. Tyreen and another cultist caught him before he hit the ground.

“T-Troy!” Tyreen called out to him, Troy passing out in her arms, “D-Damnit, quick, help me bring him back to the war technical!” 

“Yes, ma’am!”

The lone red vial was getting dark.

\-----00000-----

Leto squeezed the water out of the cloth, placing it on Troy’s forehead. The boy whimpered in his sleep, Tyreen holding his hand as she sat next to him in bed. He had broken out in a fever for the past days, his mother and sister worried. 

“Mummy, is Troy going to be okay?” Tyreen asked, patting Troy’s hand. Next to Troy was the little ragdoll Hephaestus had gifted them, keeping him company. The boy was holding the doll with his mechanical hand.

“He will, sweetie. Once the medication kicks in,” Leto said, frowning. The Atlas doctors were monitoring the situation, partly to keep Tyreen under control since her powers were affected by her emotions. These were amplified if her twin was hurt.

Unbeknownst to them, Tyreen was slowly feeding him energy that she was taking from the plants used during the experiments. It wasn’t much, but the small amounts of energy were helping him get better.

“You hear that Troy? You’ll be okay…” Tyreen whispered, laying down next to her brother. Troy was still asleep, squeezing his sister’s hand, acknowledging her statement.

Leto looked away, holding back tears. She felt guilty for not doing enough to protect her children from Atlas.

“I’m so sorry…” she whispered.

\----0000000------

“Hey.”

Troy sighed in annoyance.

“Heeeeeey.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, growling.

“HEY!”

“WHAT?!” Troy yelled, coughing as he opened his eyes. He gasped, choking for air. He looked around, meeting Pip who was grinning back at him. The Calypso was laying down on a hospital bed, his jacket removed.

“Heh, you can still hear, good,” the medic general said, tallying something on his tablet, “You were out for a while, raid was successful, congrats!” Troy groaned, landing his head on the pillow.

“Right… Where’s Tyreen?” Troy asked, picking up the red vial from his necklace. It was slightly glowing, unlike before. Pip rolled over to him from his chair, poking Troy’s face and checking his eyes with a small light, “She went to get another batch of sacrifices, juiced you up with several willing cultists to get you back here in one piece.”

“Oh…” He said, smacking the offending hands of Pip, “Red vial…”

“Yep, its that time of the month again, Troy,” Pip said, standing up, “Another blood ritual will have to be conducted.”

Troy hated the blood rituals, but he needed them to live. But that also meant getting scolded by mother and if she found out what happened between him and Tyreen this past few weeks, well, they were both in for an earful. He had his reasons, using his energy to get you back to full health. 

“Careful where you are touching…!” the voice reached over from down the infirmary hallway.

Speak of the devil.

“Ah, the plaything has been a treat this past few days, almost throttled one of my medics,” Pip laughed, “Said the medics were too grabby. I fault you and Tyreen for that.” Troy ignored the last part. 

The tall Calypso sat up, rubbing his face, “Where’s the mech-“

“Two doors down, a medic is checking out her last stitches,” Pip stated, chuckling, “With the exercises she’s done, she’s pretty much healed up, still banned from the warehouse though.” Troy nodded, standing up, grabbing his jacket from hanger near the door.

“Oh, you’re gonna go- Eh, there he goes…” Pip said, watching Troy walk out of the room, “Geez, you and Tyreen are bad at this.” 

Troy wandered off, peeking into examination room. You were sitting on the examination bed, lifting your shirt up while the medic applied antibiotic ointment on your stitches. The deep, purple bruises were long gone, only small ones remaining. Troy stepped in, the medic stopping their work.

“F-Father Troy!” the medic said, bowing. You gave Troy a bored look, still holding your shirt up.

“Don’t mind me, continue,” Troy ordered, approaching you, “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” you replied, jumping a bit when the medic resumed their work, the ointment cold on your skin. Troy chuckled, ruffling your hair, “Could be worse, you be wearing a full body cast.”

You rolled your eyes, sneering, “True, ugh.” Pip cheerfully reminded you at least once a day. 

“I heard about the victory on that big raid, another arena fight?” you asked. Troy rested his hand on your shoulder, “Yeah, but don’t worry, you won’t be participating in it.” You huffed at this.

“What, don’t believe me?” he asked, brushing a strand of stray hair from your face. The medic gestured for you to put your shirt down, finishing. With your hands free, you pushed Troy’s hand away.

“Hardly, I may not be cleared for work, but I’m sure I’ll be dumped in the arena,” you muttered, jumping off the examination bed. You were still angry about the first time when the Calypsos tricked you. The medic excused themselves, not wanting to be around for an argument.

“We’re not going to force-“ you threw Troy a dirty look at the word ‘force.’ Nothing around here was your choice. You are a plaything.

“Okay, that came out wrong, I’m aware,” Troy said, sighing, “You’re not participating in this Let’s Flay episode. There.” 

“Whatever…” you said, making your way past Troy. He grabbed your arm, stopping you.

“Now what?” you hissed out. Troy leaned forward, kissing you. You didn’t respond, only standing still. He pulled back, frowning. You were still angry at him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I’m the wrong person for that statement, too bad the one that needs it is dead,” you muttered, pushing him away as you left the examination room. You had more sympathy for the dead than the living.

Troy watched you leave, still not giving up. 

\-----0000000-------

As you walked out into the hallway, you stopped when you saw Tyreen talking to Pip, who pointed at the direction you were at. All eyes fell on you. 

“Hey, you’re done? Remember, I don’t want to see you inside the warehouse, you’ll get an infection!” Pip scolded you, but patted your head. You smacked his hand away causing him to laugh. Tyreen stood away, holding a small red vial in her hand.

“Give this to Troy, Pip,” she ordered, handing over the vial to Pip.

“Yes, my God Queen,” he bowed before heading to the examination room you left Troy in.

You both remained quiet, Tyreen looking away as you kept staring at her. You had been eyeing the scars on her nose. 

“H-How are you feeling…?” Tyreen asked, breaking the silence. 

“Fine.”

Tyreen frowned, “I-I see… D-Did Troy tell you about the raid..?”

“Yes.”

Tyreen felt small, useless, “A-About the arena fight…”

“I’m in.”

“W-What? Y-You can’t…!” Tyreen was shocked, now looking at you. You were demanding to be in the arena fight? 

“One way or another, I’m participating. I know that,” you growled, glaring at her.

“N-No! I’m not allowing that!” Tyreen said, shaking her head, “Y-You’re out of this one!” Troy and Pip stepped out from the examination room, surprised you were still in the infirmary.

“What is going on?” Troy asked, approaching.

“She wants to participate in the next Let’s Flay…” Tyreen said, breathing heavily, “I-I’m not allowing it!” She didn’t want to further infuriate Troy.

“What the fuck, did Tyreen beat your head hard?” Pip said, earning a glare from Tyreen, “You are not in any condition to work much less fight!” Pip grabbed your arm, looking at you with disappointment, “You took almost a month to get back to where you are at now!”

You shoved him away, “I’m not doing this for you shits, I know he’s watching!”

All froze at your comment. You were aware of Master’s prescence, watching the CoV?

“’He’?” Tyreen asked, not wanting to believe. The same bastard that had taunted her from the beginning, amping up her anxiety.

“Master. I know he’s watching. Ever since your stupid raid at the Atlas stronghold, I had a feeling about it, plus those attacks on your outposts weren’t random, right?” you said, the expressions on the Calypsos confirming it. All for his sick entertainment. 

“You are not participating!” Pip was adamant, “What do you gain from this, plaything?!”

“Saving your stupid skins! You think he’s going to stop at those outposts? You don’t fucking know him…” you said, pointing at them, “I don’t give a shit what you three say…” You stormed off, clenching your fists.

“W-What did she mean by that?” Troy asked, “’Saving our skins?’” Tyreen shook her head, unsure. Ever since you recovered, your mood would flip from calm, collected to agitated, angry. 

“I don’t know, but you two need to stop her from further hurting herself. We saw what that PK asshole did…” Pip said, gulping, “We might have to pray to other deities to save us…”

\-----0000000-----

Growling, you hissed at every cultist that got near you on your way back to your hut. After spending several weeks with the Calypsos in their living quarters, you were glad to finally be back to your own place. Thankfully for you, the hut was cleaned out thoroughly after you had puked your guts out weeks ago.

Kicking the door open, your eye twitched at the sight of purple hyacinth flowers still in their vase and resting on you dining table, taunting you. The God Queen herself never came by to check on you and you hoped it remained that way. You felt more guilt about discarding the flowers than keeping them and giving her the wrong message that you had forgiven her. 

Entering your bedroom, you stripped off your clothes, careful with the stitches and the fresh ointment, changing into a simple shirt and pants, and walking back into the living room. Before you could sit down on your couch, a knock stopped you. No rest for the wicked it seems.

Sighing, you opened the door, seeing Tyreen standing there. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“H-Hi, doll…” Tyreen started, nervous, “May I come in?” You opened the door, allowing her entrance. She seemed surprised, walking in. 

You closed the door, making your way to the couch, sitting down. Tyreen stood by the door, unsure. 

“What do you want.” Your cold tone struck her heart.

“…Please don’t fight…” Tyreen whispered, “I-I don’t want you getting hurt…”

“A little late for that, no?” you hissed out, looking at her, annoyed. Long ago, she was the one getting excited, seeing your injuries and bruises from the arena fights. The visible scar on your neck loomed large on Tyreen a reminder of what she had committed. 

“I’m sorry…” Tyreen said, holding back tears, “I’m sorry…” She walked over to you, pleading. 

You only stared at her.

“Please talk to me…” Tyreen begged. Even if it meant screaming insults at her, it was better than silent stares.

“Since when do you give a shit?” you muttered, “Since when do you give a shit what I think?” You were exhausted, dealing with the tantrums of the Calypsos. Tyreen had lashed out before when you would talk back at her, slapping you. Now she was asking for you to talk to her? Ridiculous, the little monster thought.

/Why do you care if she likes you or not?/ 

“Go play with your other toys, God Queen,” you said, “I have to rest for the fight.” 

Tyreen wanted to reach out to grab your hand, but your angry stare deterred her. Defeated, she took a deep breath, heading towards the door. She glanced back at you, seeing you get up and disappear into your bedroom. Had it been the ‘old days,’ she’d follow you, but now, she was unwelcomed more than ever. She still remembered the good night’s sleep she had with you, craving for another chance like it. Her present nights were filled with terror. 

She noticed the purple hyacinths, the flowers turning away from her, as if upset. They were sensitive to her emotions.

“I’m so sorry…” Tyreen whispered, walking out of your hut.

\-----000000-------

The Atlas doctor checked Troy’s temperature, inputting the information into a tablet while another medic administered a shot to the boy. Troy held on to the ragdoll when he felt the liquid enter his system. Tyreen was covering her eyes, nervous about the presence of the large needle.

“Vitals are normal, temperature as well,” the doctor informed, “You made a quick recovery.”

“Good, I don’t want to delay any further the experiments,” Steele said, standing by the holding cell’s entrance. Leto glared at her, growling.

“My son still needs to fully recover! I’m not allowing this!” Leto stood in front of Troy. Steele stared her down.

“Your input is irrelevant, I will separate you from your children,” Steele threatened, “Its only a courtesy to house you with them….”

“It’s your fault he got sick in the first place! You and your fucking experiments!” Leto shouted, angry. The doctor and medic looked on, nervous. Tyreen hugged Troy, both of them scared. It was rare to see their mother extremely upset.

“Cease your foolish behavior…” Steele warned, inching close, raising her Siren hand up, “Hephaestus isn’t here to rescue you…”

“Why you…!” Leto hissed out.

“Mummy!” Tyreen grabbed Leto’s hand, “Please don’t hurt our mummy! I’ll do whatever you want!” Leto looked down at Tyreen, afraid. Steele smirked, deactivated her powers.

“See, she knows her place. You should as well,” Steele chuckled, ordering the doctor and medic to leave, “I’ll be seeing you around little sister.” The pale Siren left, but not before throwing a dirty look at Leto.

“Mummy…” Troy whispered, holding Tyreen’s other hand. Tyreen wiped Leto’s tears as their mother broke down, sobbing.

“Its okay, mummy….” Tyreen said.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie…” Leto cried out, hugging her children. 

Home was not in Atlas. Family did not include a pale Siren monster. 

\-----0000000-----

Tyreen broke down, covering her face as she wept. She couldn’t handle it anymore, the rejection. The flowers weren’t the answer, she knew that, but she was hurting. Hurting more than ever that her mistake ruined any possibility for forgiveness. Helen, the beating, and now trying to hurt Perseus had made things worse.

“Hurts like a sonabitch, right?” 

The white-haired Calypso wiped her tears, shoulders shaking as she looked up Troy. Her brother had a neutral expression on his face, but his tone held a hint of malice. Both were currently in their living room area, the night falling on the hub. It was only a few hours before the arena fight.

“It’s not just the rejection, but your heart feeling like its being stomped on numerous times… that’s the stinger,” Troy added, drumming his fingers on the edge of the couch, “Do you like the feeling, Tyreen?”

She looked down, growling. Then there was Troy, still taunting her with Perseus. The mechanic was back at his shift at the warehouse, but with you up and running again, you were still meeting with him at the bar, church, cathedral and about, Troy allowing it. Her brother had scolded her for glaring at Perseus prior to the raid.

“You’ll get used it, I had to. Numerous times,” her brother said, giving her a tiny smirk, “Many, many times…”

“Just stop… please…” Tyreen begged, hugging herself, “You won. You fucking won… She hates me… She despises me… Happy?” She wanted this to be over. 

“It’s not up to me anymore, Ty,” Troy shook his head, chuckling, “Its on her now, you did this to yourself.” Troy left the room, Tyreen feeling alone, lost. 

Broken.

/Since when do you give a shit what I think?/

Always, Tyreen thought.

\-----0000000------

“Have you lost your mind?!” Perseus shouted, looking at you, “You are going to get beaten up, worse, killed! Jackal, help me out!” You, Perseus and Jackal were inside one of the priest’s study rooms, away from the Calypsos’ gaze and surveillance cameras.

“He’s right, Andromeda, you can’t be acting reckless!” Jackal pleaded.

You were putting on your boots, getting ready for the arena fight. Your mind was made up already, your friends’ pleas falling on deaf ears. Helen’s daggers were neatly placed on your belt, waiting for action. 

“I’ll be fine,” you said, flashing them a smile. This did little to calm them down. 

“Is this part of your plan? Please tell me it is… this is stupid!” Perseus yelled, standing in front of you. 

“It is, can’t let that bastard know I’m down,” you said, checking your wrist bands and adjusting your gloves, “He’s watching, everything for his sick entertainment. I need to provide it.” The last part came out automatic for you, spooking yourself.

“Cetus?” Jackal asked, “The one who attacked the outposts?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t changed after all these years, getting off from the pain I inflict on others,” you replied, staring ahead. You growled, shaking your head. The little monster was clawing your mind.

“Like the Twin Gods…” Perseus added, glancing at Jackal. The priest frowned, the revelation providing new insight about you. One of the main reasons you disliked the Calypsos when you were first captured.

/I never liked fighting, but I had to for survival./

“….Yeah. Also, Perseus, did you get to finish that little project I asked about?” you tapped at your wrists, “I would like to try them out this fight.”

Perseus sighed, taking out two items from his leather bag, placing them on a table. Jackal took a peek, noticing two small silver pins with a glowing blue center. Digistructors.

“Where did you get the cells for it?” Jackal asked, seeing you put them on your wrists. 

“Scraps from old raids, managed to find two that semi-worked, juiced them up a bit,” Perseus explained, helping you adjust them, “This is only a prototype, I can’t say how long they’ll last if you get hits on it.”

“That should be fine, as long as they work, we can improve them,” you said, grinning, “Jackal, what about the jacket?” The priest pushed a box forward from under the table your group gathered around, opening and taking out a crimson jacket with a hood. The sleeves were ripped off, the length adjusted to reach your midriff. Black fabric lined the inside, white embroidered lettering “JAWBREAKER” was placed on the back of the jacket, wedged between the jaws of a white skull set on fire. The skull’s lower jaw was broken, cracked. 

You touched the jacket, nodding, “Wow… I’m impressed Jackal.” The priest chuckled, Perseus smacking him on the back, whistling.

“Holy shit, that’s cool. What’s with the ‘Jawbreaker’?” Perseus asked. 

“You’ll see,” you said, putting on the jacket, extending the hood to cover your head.

Everyone will bear witness to it soon enough.

Jackal checked his EchoNet device, “We should get moving, the celebration is about to start. There’s still time to back out, Andromeda.” 

You shook your head, “I’m fighting, Jackal. I’ll be okay, don’t worry.” You held out your fist to Perseus.

The mechanic bumped your fist back, “Don’t do something stupid in the arena, you hear me? We’ll be watching!”

“Alright, alright,” you teased, laughing.

Time to shine, little monster said.

\----000000-----

Jackal escorted you down the hallway, heading towards the waiting room. The Calypsos did not greet you this time around, which you were fine with, not wanting to spoil your fun and the surprise. However, before you could reach your designated room, Donovan was outside, waiting.

“Prophet Donovan,” you said, you and Jackal stopping a few feet from him. The priest growled.

“Plaything,” Donovan started, “What are you up to?” He eyed the get-up you had. The general was aware of the Calypsos being vocal against you fighting this round. A complete opposite of themselves a year and half ago.

“I’m not following,” you replied, getting irritated with his presence. 

“You disobeyed the God Queen several times, I figured the beating she gave you should have knocked some sense into you,” Donovan said, approaching you. His annoyance was visible on his face.

Narrowing your eyes, you grinned, “She didn’t beat it into me hard enough it seems.” Jackal was glaring at Donovan.

Donovan huffed, sneering at Jackal then at you, “Then perhaps next time, I shall offer my services to her.” 

You clenched your fists, chuckling, “Yeah, just don’t bring a gun or how about sending your lackies to do your dirty job.” 

“Why you-“ Donovan was about to initiate something, raising his fist.

“Donovan.”

You all turned to look at Pip who was down the hallway, cigarette in mouth. The medic general had his hands in his pockets, hunched, looking at his fellow general with disapproval, “We are being summoned, get a move on.” 

Donovan growled, spitting in front of you before walking away.

“A prelude to something nice,” you said, smiling.

Donovan stopped, turning to face you, “What?”

“You asked what I’m up to,” you said, walking towards your room, Jackal following, “Something nice, I hope you enjoy it.” 

Pip snickered from where he was, enjoying the drama unfolding before him. The living are so much fun, he thought.

\------0000000------

Basil checked and made last minute fixes to the consoles, adjusting the feeds and making sure everything was in order for the Let’s Flay while Mouthpiece was going over the livestream settings. Behind them, the generals and the Calypsos congregated, looking over the EchoNet forums. Several photos were posted by the Unknown User aka “Master,” the first activity in many weeks since the outpost attacks.

All of them showed images from the outposts that were destroyed, Jester creatures in chains standing in a dimly lit room, but the one that caught everyone’s attention was…

A Vault gate. 

The location of the Vault was difficult to determine. From the angle, it seemed indoors, perhaps in a cavern. The visible walls had skulls with horns and crystals wedged on them, purple sludge pouring down from the mouths in a pool with people in it.

“A Vault… huh, I know were not the only ones searching for them,” Moksha stated, “The Crimson Raider’s commander was a Vault Hunter as well as some of her associates.”

“Why show us a Vault?” Donovan asked, eyeing the purple sludge.

“I doubt its to taunt us, we’ve already opened several Vaults here in Promethea and other planets, Atlas opened one in Pandora as did Hyperion,” Troy said, glancing at Pip who was zooming in on the Vault image on his screen.

“This purple sludge…. Could it be?” Pip pondered, tilting his head.

“You got something, Pip?” Tyreen asked, noticing the medic general zoning out.

“Those creatures, the vials… I thought it was blood, but what if its this purple sludge?” Pip observed, stepping back, “Are they using a liquid they found on a Vault on people?” 

The twins eyed the image, recalling the Red Vault. Mother required sacrifices to heal Troy, replenishing his vitality, that in turn increased his own strength and stamina. Was that the message ‘Master’ was sending to them? That he possessed something similar for the Jester creatures?

“We’re ready to start, we go live in five,” Basil announced, Mouthpiece departing to his booth. 

“We shall discuss this after the Let’s Flay. Moksha, keep an eye on the forums and chats,” Troy ordered, him and Tyreen heading to the arena’s main platform stage.

“On it!” Moksha said, bringing the displays to her side. Donovan watched the twins leave, refraining from participating this time. Troy was keeping face for the sake of the cult but was seething against his right-hand man.

“Let’s be good sports and watch from behind the curtain, we don’t want to miss the God Queen’s plaything’s return to the arena,” Pip mused, “I’m just hoping I’m not picking up her pieces later on.” He laughed, earned a look of annoyance from Donovan.

“Let’s hope it’s the latter,” Donovan muttered, crossing his arms.

/A prelude to something nice./ 

He had a feeling what you were planning wasn’t going to end well.

Question was, on whom will tragedy befall to?

\-----0000000------

“CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!” the crowd chanted, stomping their feet. Another successful raid, another successful victory for the Children of the Vault. All for the glory of the Calypsos.

“LET ME HEAR YOU!” Mouthpiece shouted, his hologram riling up the cultists.

“CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

Fireworks went off, illuminating the dim arena, the surveyors flying around, capturing the enthusiasm of the cultists for the LiveScream. Moksha was monitoring the chat alongside Basil, the regular audience excited for another episode. 

“LET ME HEAR YOU AGAIN! FOR OUR TWIN GODS! FOR THE GLORY OF THE CALYPSOS!” Mouthpiece shouted with gusto, the crowd going wild. Some in the crowd were holding signs with the word ‘Calypso’ written on it. 

“THE GLORIOUS TWIN GODS HAVE DEFEATED THE LEECH! A CRUSHING BLOW AGAINST THE HEATHENS, THE CRIMSON ALLIANCE!” Mouthpiece announced, welcoming the Calypsos who entered their viewing area, “PRAISE THE CALYPSOS!”

“CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

The twins waved, grinning as their holograms appeared over the arena. Tyreen blew kisses to the crowd, flashing a victory sign while Troy snapped his jaws, laughing.

“Welcome back everyone! Did you miss us?” Tyreen said, winking. The chats immediately exploded with hearts and little emotes of Tyreen. A flood of messages with ‘I (heart emoji) God Queen’ filled the chat, the online audience going crazy. 

“Don’t think we forgot about the Let’s Flay!” Troy said, holding his sword up, “We promised mayhem, and we deliver!” He stuck his tongue out, cackling while twirling his blade. This got everyone excited, the chat being bombarded with little skulls and snake emojis. 

“MAYHEM! MAYHEM! MAYHEM!” the crowd chanted. 

The last Let’s Flay was ‘successful’ in viewership, the drama surrounding the outcast ex-priestess invigorating temporarily the bloodlust of the cultists. Now, they craved more. Behind the scenes, a new kind of mayhem shook to the core their deities, rendering the Calypsos powerless to forces out of their control. And just like everything else…

You were in the middle of it.

No arena fights were conducted while you were recovering. Instead, the Calypsos focused on more raids to gain more ground after the attack on the CoV outposts. The battle with the Crimson Raiders escalated, the CoV pushing back by the most part in Pandora. The latest raid against Leech, an ally of the Crimson Raiders, was to squash their presence in Promethea. Their victory uncovered information about Lilith, the Firehawk creating a Crimson Alliance, several bandit groups joining her against the Children of the Vault.

“We shall defeat those who oppose us!” the twins shouted, “Destroy the heathens!”

“KILL THE HEATHENS! KILL THE HEATHENS!” the crowd shouted back. Alongside the Calypsos’ holograms were surveyor shots of the raid, showing Leech’s bandits getting pummeled by the armed cultists, several of them cut through by Troy’s blade while others had their energies sucked by Tyreen.

The Calypsos’ holograms disappeared, replaced by Mouthpiece.

“THE PLAYTHINGS ENTER THE ARENA!” Mouthpiece announced, signaling the fighters to enter. Bruisers, marauders, psychos, and Goliaths entered, ready for action. You walked in, receiving odd and confusing looks from everyone. 

Perseus, from the spectator’s area, grinned, amused by everyone’s reaction. The twins were baffled, shocked as they leaned over to get a better view of you. 

Standing outside your waiting room, you had the jacket’s hood on, but your face was covered by a particular psycho’s mask. 

Helen’s. 

Her infamous mask adorned with a bloody ‘T’ in the forehead in reverence to Troy. Above it, a gunshot had pierced through it, dry blood smeared with the letter, creating a cross. 

“The psycho mask…” Troy said, memories of the last fight coming up, Helen’s lifeless body in your arms as you cried. Tyreen was trying to keep calm, her own words ordering you to kill Helen resonating in her head. Donovan, who was watching from the backstage, narrowed his eyes when he saw the feed. 

“What the fuck is she doing?!” he hissed out.

“Taunt the Viper and it will strike,” Pip said, chuckling when Donovan glared at him, “What? The crowd will love it. Jealous that she is one-uping your performance from the last fight?” 

Donovan growled, ignoring the medic general. 

Moksha glanced back at them, shaking her head. The chat got filled with questions, some bringing up Helen and others complimenting the look. An ‘Unknown User’ popped in, a smiling face by their name.

.:Unknown User: : ) 

“Shit, we got something, everyone,” Moksha said, communicating with the twins and the other generals. Troy and Tyreen copied, their attention not breaking from you. Master was indeed watching. The surveyors descended, dancing their way around the playthings, one of them following you around. 

“PLAYTHINGS! START THE BLOODY MAYHEM!” Mouthpiece shouted, the airhorn going off. You took off running, hunched over as you immediately jumped on marauder, twisting their head. The crowd hollered, whooping on the quick, first kill.

“SICK KILL BY THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING!” Mouthpiece yelled, “THE FIRST KILL OF THE LET’S FLAY!”

Tyreen and Troy watched intently, surprised by your actions. You were moving as if you hadn’t been stuck on bed for a month, easily dispatching the marauder with ease. With your face covered, it was difficult to tell if you were in pain. 

“We should have stopped her,” Tyreen whispered, looking over at Troy. He shook his head, “We tried.” They saw the back of your jacket, displaying the word ‘JAWBREAKER.’

“D-Did you give her that?” Tyreen said, narrowing her eyes at Troy. 

“No. I haven’t given her anything,” Troy defended himself, “I don’t know where she got that from.” A ping from their EchoNet devices went off, a message displayed.

.:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

.:Unknown User: You’re in for a treat. I hope you like jawbreakers.

.:Unknown User: :3c

.:Unknown User: (candy emoji) (skull emoji)

“This fucker…” Troy growled, throwing his EchoNet device aside. Tyreen put hers away, “Moksha, anything on the chats?” 

“He’s been posting images from the EchoNet forums into the chat, so far nothing extra,” Moksha radioed in. 

“Keep tabs on it-“ The sound of screams caught Tyreen off guard, the memory of your own screams coming back. But the ones she heard weren’t yours.

The crowd hollered, gasping before cheering on. Troy shook Tyreen’s arm, his eyes glued to the arena, “What the fuck…” Tyreen’s eyes widened, at the sight.

You were on top of a Goliath who was on the ground, squirming as you dug a ceremonial dagger into his mouth. The mask muffled your giggling as you tugged at the bandit’s jaw, ripping it off. Next to you and the Goliath laid a bruiser with his lower jaw gone, a dagger embedded on his forehead. The Goliath screeched in pain, trying to push you off as you held the broken, ripped jaw on your hand, tossing it aside. 

“GAAGKALJAHH!!!” the Goliath pushed you off, limping away. You landed nearby, hunched over in all fours, patting the ground before digistructing a chain out, whipping at the Goliath’s helmet.

“THE PLAYTHING IS TOYING WITH THE GOLIATH?!” Mouthpiece announced.

“PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING!” the crowd chanted. 

“A digistructor…” Troy observed, noticing the lack of physical chains on your wrists and ankles, “When did she…” You were forbidden from entering the warehouse and nowhere in the Calypsos’ living quarters were areas with machinery or scraps for you to obtain.

“Perseus,” Tyreen said, growling. The meetings. At the bar, at the cathedral, the smaller church, all those other places. Perseus had helped you construct it.

Perseus was observing the fight, checking out the digistructor he created, making mental notes as he saw one of them flicker when you brought down the Goliath. He had spent countless hours trying to get it to function. He prayed that it would last the entire fight. 

You punched the Goliath, then started to choke him with the chains. Cackling, you removed the dagger from his broken, torn mouth, picking up the one on the bruiser.

“PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING!”

“THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING IS BRINGING CHAOS AND MAYHEM TO THIS FIGHT!” Mouthpiece shouted, the surveyors chasing you as you kept pouncing on other playthings, keeping them in place with the chains and stabbing into their mouths with the daggers. The ground got littered with ripped lower jaws, some of the fighters screaming as they held their bleeding mouths, trying to pull at the chains left around their necks.

“BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!”

You raised your hands up, gesturing for the crowd to increase their chants. 

“PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING!”

You started clapping, the crowd following, going crazy.

The twins and the generals were shocked, watching you mess with the crowd. You grabbed several discarded lower jaws, throwing them at the spectators. Several cultists jumped to grab them, cheering on. 

“You got to be fucking kidding me…” Troy snorted, unsure whether to laugh or be amazed, “I didn’t think of that!” He resorted to laughing, still surprised at your ‘playful’ demeanor. Tyreen wasn’t sure either how to react, believing from the beginning that you were going to have a hard time fighting.

The chat went crazy, filled with heart emojis, psycho masks, and daggers. 

“What?! She’s giving away those jaws!” “SMH I wish I was there…!” “FUCKING SWEET!”

“JAWBREAKER! I finally get the name on her jacket!” “DAMNIT, I want my own souvenir!”

Another ping came through the EchoNet devices of the Calypsos, both of them looking.

.:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

.:Unknown User: The arena no longer belongs to you.

.:Unknown User: It belongs to her now.

.:Unknown User: Her glorious stage, now fit for the Queen. (crown emoji)

The twins narrowed their eyes, confused about the message. Was he talking about your current behavior right now?

“THE PLAYTHING IS GIVING OUT HER SPOILS!” Mouthpiece announced, fireworks going off, “BUT THE OTHERS ARE STILL IN THE ARENA!”

You waved at the crowd, running around the edges of arena pit before jumping on the wall, then to the upper platforms. This alarmed the Calypsos who quickly ran to the side.

“H-HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Mouthpiece asked, his feed cutting off. 

“Nobody get near her!” Troy ordered, pushing aside the armed guards, cursing. This reminded him of the fight with Cepheus where the old Viper and you ended up destroying part of the arena. Tyreen was behind Troy, smacking the surveyors away, “W-What is she doing up there?!” 

The crowd was anxious as well, watching you jump further up in the platforms into the exposed roof beams. Perseus watched with concern, shouting at you when he saw you slip a bit. He was hoping your plan would work. You were tying something, blocked from everyone’s view. 

You gazed down at the arena and at the Calypsos, waiting. Until you saw Donovan rush out from behind the stage alongside Basil and Moksha, you jumped down, the crowd gasping and yelling.

“F-Fuck! HEY!” Troy yelled out, jumping and rushing over into the arena, armed guards following him. Tyreen watched in horror as you descended down, not noticing the chains digistructed and anchored from a top. Gracefully, you landed, extending your arms up before pulling down at the chains. A green, short barreled pistol digistructed from your one of pins on your wrist, a quick shot from you aimed up broke the chain knot on the roof.

The struggling playthings gagged, being lifted up several feet up in the air, dangling and choking. Troy and the armed cultists stopped on their tracks, looking up at the hanged bodies. Perseus, alongside the crowd, grew quiet. Tyreen edged closer from the viewing platform, staring at the bodies.

The bodies were hanged in formation.

A triangle.

“Ta-da!” you giggled, twirling the gun up in the air and catching it with your other hand, bowing at the crowd who broke out in cheers. The gun digistructed back into the pin.

“PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING!” the crowd shouted, roaring, “MAYHEM! MAYHEM! MAYHEM!”

You threw your fist up in the air, jumping and waving at the crowd. Troy stared at you from a distance. The first image sent by Master had displayed hanged bodies in a triangular formation. Were you responsible for that? Troy dismissed the armed cultists, retreating as well, the question now plaguing his mind. Perseus took opportunity to leave, Tyreen keeping an eye on him. 

“Mouthpiece, call the victor…” Tyreen radioed in, getting confirmation from Mouthpiece. Her little jealousy monster was still present.

“THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING IS VICTORIOUS!” Mouthpiece announced, “PRAISE THE CALYPSOS FOR THIS WONDERFUL PERFORMANCE!”

“CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

You waved as you retreated back to your room, cartwheeling and flipping. Donovan, near Tyreen and the others, glared at you, not liking your display.

/A prelude to something nice, I hope you enjoy it./

\------0000000-------

Walking into your waiting room, you collapsed, Jackal catching you. Shaking, you removed the psycho mask, breathing heavily. Perseus barged in, slamming the door.

“Holy shit, when you said you were going to bait them, I wasn’t expecting you throw yourself from the fucking roof!” Perseus shouted, helping Jackal sit you on the lone chair in the room. 

“Ugh, no, ‘hey, that was fucking sick, man!’ comment?” you teased, out of breath. Jackal sighed, taking the mask away from you. 

“You said you weren’t going to do anything reckless!” Perseus rubbed his face, “I saw the damn digistructor flickering and malfunctioning, what if it gave out while you jumped down?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know, I go splat?” 

“Andromeda…” Jackal started, helping you remove the wrist bands.

“Don’t ‘Andromeda’ me in that disappointing parental tone, my brother failed numerous times,” you said, grinning, “Did I ever tell you he was guilty of encouraging me in pranking others?”

“No,” both Perseus and Jackal responded, frustrated. They both wondered if his attitude was the same as yours. The priest handed over the wrist bands over to Perseus with the digistructors. One of them spewed out the green gun, the item landing on the ground. 

“I wasn’t expecting a gun already pre-loaded into the digistructor, Perseus,” you said, picking up the gun. The green gun had the words ‘Green with Envy’ alongside some chains engraved on the barrel, the grip containing specks of sparkling gem dust. 

“The ‘Helenite,’” Perseus said, “Figured you needed something else other than the chains.” 

“Named after her,” you whispered, admiring the feel and look of the gun, “I’m assuming this is the one that you two used to shoot the mask…”

“…Yes,” Jackal said, holding Helen’s mask, “I wanted Troy to remember what happened to her.” His own type of revenge mixed with yours. You wanted also Troy to never forget Helen and payback for using Perseus against Tyreen.

“We’re playing with hellfire around here,” you mused, liking their way of thinking.

“Well, you got their attention alright, even Prophet Donovan came out,” Perseus helped you to stand, “Now what?”

“They’ll ask questions, I’ll answer few, if all goes well, then I can jump into the second phase,” you stated. 

“….You’re getting too reckless…” Perseus said, Jackal also looking at you. They had noticed your change in mood, smiling to completely wanting to punch someone. At first, they thought it was due to your bedrest and getting banned from the warehouse, but after hearing about the Calypso outpost attacks, you went on and on about Cetus. You had explained to Perseus and Jackal that Cetus had instilled in you to be flashy with your kills, viewing it as a performance, and ode to life and death. This Let’s Flay had demonstrated more brutality on your part, your flair for it.

For now, your target was Donovan. 

“Never been reckless in my life, its been a game from the beginning,” you said, smiling, staring down at the floor, “Who gets to snap first.” A cold, deadly smile.

Perseus and Jackal blinked.

Who gets to snap first?

You handed the gun to Perseus, heading towards the door, “They are probably waiting.”

“What if your plan doesn’t work…?” Perseus asked, worried. He gave the gun to Jackal, who placed it away in a holster.

You paused, hand on the door knob as you turned to face at Perseus and Jackal, smiling, your expression unsettling, “Then I will……” Opening the door, you walked out, gently closing it.

Walking down the hallway to the medical room, you kept smiling, feeling high of bloodlust. You could hear Troy and Tyreen talking on the other side as you paused in front of the doors. 

“I will kill them all until I see red,” you grinned, chuckling. 

Master would certainly be pleased.

\------00000000------

Tyreen cupped your face with her hands, her Siren tattoos glowing as she healed your wounds and injuries from the arena fight. She checked your side, healing that area. Troy was next to you, patiently waiting. With his own energy low, he couldn’t assist. You waited for Tyreen to finish, anxious. It was difficult keeping your body under control with her nearby. 

“That seems to be it. Pip will check your side after you’re cleaned up,” Tyreen said, ushering you to the bathtub. You removed your clothes, stepping into the tub. The twins left you to wash yourself, busying themselves with grabbing fresh clothes and towels.

They kept glancing at you from time to time, staring when you washed your hair, the triangle scar peeking through from the back of your head. You were still tight-lipped about it, but you had shown you were aware of the situation with the Calypsos’ feud with ‘Master.’ From the fight, they speculated you were responsible for the first photo with the hanging bodies. The twins wanted to ask, although uncertain on how to proceed. The kept quiet, waiting for the right moment.

You removed the water stopper, grabbing a towel to dry yourself. 

“Are you two done staring?” you asked, not looking back at them as you got up, putting the towel around your body, getting out of the tub.

Both twins blinked, coughing awkwardly. You paid no attention to them, getting dressed. Drying your hair, you approached them, annoyed.

“So, I go to the infirmary, or the doc is coming over?” you inquired. 

“He’s waiting outside, I’ll let him in,” Troy said, heading towards the exit doors. You sat back on the examination bed, tossing the towel to the side. Tyreen remained in her spot, avoiding your gaze. The last time you were in the medical room, the Siren Calypso had punished you, kicking her brother out, leaving you behind. She was getting antsy, remembering.

“About time, I thought you three were… you know,” Pip said, Troy rolling his eyes at the implication. The medic general made his way over to you, opening the drawers on a nearby counter, getting out ointment and gloves, “I have to say, you put a damn show out there.” You lifted your shirt up, allowing him to examine and apply the medication on your stitched-up side.

“Pretty tame, somewhat,” you said, staring down at the floor. This caught the twins’ attention. Tame? You hung up several bodies during a LiveScream, ripped and threw the other playthings’ lower jaws at the crowd and threw yourself off the roof. That was beyond tame.

“Oh, how so?” Pip glanced at the twins, who nodded, wanting him to make conversation. You were more talkative to others about the subject than with the Calypsos.

“Remember the jester? It’s more gruesome when they’re involved,” you chuckled, recalling the fights. The soft flesh. The taste of their blood. 

Your demeanor was changing again. 

“Huh, you don’t say… Speaking about that ‘jester’ thing, what exactly is that?” Pip finished applying the ointment. He pressed your side several times, checking for points of pain. You didn’t flinch, only smiling. He blinked, finding this odd.

“A poor bastard that no longer remembers who they are, mindless, only a little toy….” You muttered, trailing off, “Just warm-ups… Sad little things… Very soft…” You were swaying from side to side.

“What’s going on?” Troy asked, Pip stopping him from approaching you. Tyreen looked on, worried. You were more unhinged this time around, worse than the previous fights.

“She seems to be having an episode, something from the fight triggered it,” Pip explained, waving his hand in front of your face. You didn’t react. He snapped his fingers.

“W-What?” you jerked up, blinking, “Fuck…” You grabbed your head, growling. The little monster pouted, upset at being pushed away.

“You spaced out on us,” Pip explained, lifting your head up by your chin, “Do you recall anything?”

“N-No…” you said, a bit nervous. It was happening again. The little monster was slowly taking control. She was getting fed up with you.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Pip asked, checking your eyes with a small light. The Calypsos were caught off guard, this being new to them. 

“I-I.. I don’t know… the infirmary…?” You offered, memory hazy.

“Walk me through it, what did you do there?” Pip asked, waiting.

“I went for a check-up… a medic was applying medication on my stitches… Troy walked in… I don’t remember the talk, I went outside the hallway…” you paused, trying to remember, “I saw you with Tyreen, more talking… after that… I just..”

You were having trouble recalling the talks with Tyreen in your hut, Perseus and Jackal trying to stop you from fighting, entering the arena, and the fight. 

“I’m not sure if you got an injury to your head from what happened with Tyreen or something is causing you to blackout,” Pip crossed his arms, looking at Tyreen, “Care to clarify?”

Tyreen looked away, angry, “I-I didn’t hit in her head if that’s what you are implying…” Troy growled, the subject being touchy. Pip could care less, it had to do with your health.

“You may have overexerted yourself today. This is why I was against you fighting, but you went all superhero trying to prove a point to whatever that asshole is watching,” Pip shook his head, “No more of this, get rest, I mean it.”

You nodded, taking deep breaths, “I will...” The little monster laughed, enjoying your pain. You were going to beat yourself up later on for slipping. At least the little monster was playing along with your plan. 

Pip crossed his arms, looking at the twins, “I’m going to put her in a body cast if she keeps this up.”

“W-What! No!” you protested, the medic general laughing. Tyreen sighed while Troy joined in, ruffling your hair. 

“I’ll take my leave, and I’m serious, plaything,” Pip bowed, leaving the medical room. You put your hood on, pulling at the strings of the jacket to cover your face completely.

“Hey,” Troy said, pulling open the hood, “Don’t do that. Besides, where did you get that jacket?” You put your hands in your pants’ pockets.

“A gift from a friend,” you stated, “For my recovery.” Partly a lie. You requested the outfit from Jackal.

“Friend…” Tyreen muttered. Troy glared at her before talking, “Perseus?”

“No, Jackal,” you replied, getting up from the examination table. The twins weren’t surprised, the priest had been friendlier with you despite what happened with his daughter.

“You… you have a lot of explaining to do, you know?” Troy said, grabbing your arm.

“About?” you asked, the little monster enjoying this.

“The fight, that jester thing… starting with the ‘Jawbreaker’ name,” Troy narrowed his eyes.

“And that triangle mark,” Tyreen said, “You claimed Master was behind the outpost attacks, knowing that he’s been watching, we need answers.”

They took the bait. The little monster danced with glee in your mind.

“Jawbreaker,” you started, trying to contain your excitement, “My rookie name in the fights…” You stared into the distance, digging your nails into your old scars on your arms. The unhinged, bloody, gruesome fights in the ring. 

“Rookie name…?” Tyreen asked. Master had kept calling you ‘Queen’ in the messages, only recently making mention of the candy. 

You took a deep breath, “Yeah, on fights put together by an organization called Trinity. The individual you know as ‘Master’ controls it. For corporate bigwigs, politicians as well, celebrities and the sort. Their symbol is an upside down triangle.” You touched your triangular scar on the back of your head. Turning to face the twins, you continued your tale. You tried to keep a neutral expression, but the memories were making it difficult.

“I was baptized with that nickname, for the manner I’d kill others,” you tugged at your own lower jaw, “Breaking and ripping their lower jaws off.” Troy absentmindedly touched his own, a bit unnerved. 

/What you have here is mere child’s play!/ The dead haunting the living, Cepheus’s words ringing again. 

“And the chains?” Troy asked.

“I was trained that way by Cepheus,” you replied, rubbing your wrists, “He was known to use whips, I used chains, hanging bodies…” Tyreen placed her hand on your arm, tracing the old scars. You flinched slightly, but kept still. 

“That’s how you knew to fight, back with the Skullmashers,” Tyreen said. You closed your eyes, memories of your old life as a free bandit flashing in your mind. Those same skills helped you survive the wastes for three years. 

Troy frowned, his hand resting on your shoulder, “The Atlas stronghold?” 

“A shipping outpost for Trinity in Promethea, but it belongs to someone else,” you said, grabbing your head, “That Jester you saw was probably being transported somewhere, the cold keeps them immobile. He was also a product of experiments conducted by Trinity…” That you had part of, but that was irrelevant at the moment. 

“Who does it belong to?” Tyreen asked.

“The Rat King,” you replied, opening your eyes, tears stinging, “The bandit lord works for Trinity, he supplies people to the organization for experiments.” You coughed, rubbing your eyes. It was getting difficult to keep calm.

/The rat from the east./

“You don’t have to continue,” Tyreen whispered, “We’ll finish this later…” She glanced at Troy, who nodded. He picked you up, startling you.

“H-Hey, put me d-down!” you tried to get off, but Troy kept a firm grip on you. The rollercoaster of emotions had worn you out.

“You need to rest, Pip is serious about the full body cast,” Troy said, “Think of this as a favor.” He chuckled as you gave up, crossing your arms.

“Fine,” you muttered, deciding to indulge the twins this time around.

As long as they took your little baits.

\-----0000000------

The frigid cold air in the holding cell did little to affect your body, having grown accustomed to it after months in the freezer back in the Atlas stronghold. Even in your current outfit, a simple sleeveless, white jacket over a black tank top and black shorts, barefoot, your body was complaining it was too hot. Maybe you were nervous? Maybe excited? 

This was your first fight, your debut within Trinity. 

After months and months of intense, torturous training under Cepheus, it was decided you were ready. You didn’t protest, partly to please the man who saved you, the other part you wanted to unleash the stress and anger you had inside. In your mind, all the pent-up emotions created something: a little monster. A little monster that cheered you on, goading you not to give anyone the satisfaction of your defeat. 

Now, it wanted to come out and play alongside you in your first fight.

Cetus squeezed your hand, whispering assurances. You stared ahead, waiting for the doors to open. Cetus stepped back as Cepheus adjusted the collar on your neck and the chains around your wrists and ankles: Your preferred weapons. 

“Make me proud,” Cetus said, watching as the door in front of them opened with a loud hiss. You took a deep breath, stepping forward. 

Cepheus whistled a little tune, clicking with his tongue. You stood erect, eyes wide, then hunched over, giggling. The little monster was ready.

“Kill them all until you see red… GO!” Cepheus ordered. You rushed over into the small ring, the glaring spotlights casted on you and another individual on the opposite side. Your opponent, a young man wearing a black jacket, white pants, and steel-toed boots, sneered at your presence.

“This bitch is my opponent? I’m going to break her fucking face,” the fighter spat out, popping his knuckles. Cetus sat in the upper deck in the spectator area, Cepheus standing next to him, arms behind his back as they both stared down. You only smiled, ignoring his taunt.

“Hey! You better not fucking cry and piss yourself when I knock that that stupid smile off your face!” the fighter took out a retractable rod from his jacket, sparks coming out in the end, “Let’s get this over with!”

“This beautiful buttercup makes her debut into the ring, ladies and gentlemen! Place your bets! Who will win?” Winona announced, clad in a bright outfit, pointing at you, “The little pearl doll vs this brutish asshole GO, GO!” The fighter lunged forward, roaring. The small group of corporate bigwigs laughed, made comments about how the fighter was going to deck and beat you up. While they kept taunting, Cetus chuckled, signaling Cepheus.

The Viper bandit whistled a tune. You readied up, immediately dodging the fighter’s first attack, landing a kick on his side. 

“Gah! You fucking bitch!” he shouted, swinging the rod again, hitting you on the shoulder. You laughed, grabbing it and pulling him towards you, headbutting him. He grabbed his nose, unable to block a barrage of kicks to his stomach. Using the chains, you swung at his knees, causing him to stumble forward. 

“What! Impossible!” an old man shouted, slamming his fists on his chair, “What the fuck is happening!? This better not be fucking rigged! There’s no way she’s having the upper hand!”

Cetus laughed, mocking the old man, “You sure are full of yourself, she is capable of taking down this brute, be quiet and watch.” Cepheus snorted, glaring at the old man. He had trained you.

“She delivers blow and kick after kick and blow! Oh, halleluiah, look at that leg work, ladies and gentlemen! This brutish asshole cannot land a hit!” Winona ranted, getting excited, jumping in place, “IS IT ME OR IS IT GETTING HOT, HOT, HOT?!”

The fighter was unable to block, any attempts were thwarted with your chain attacks as you whipped them around, striking at his flesh. Blood splattered everywhere, the stench in the arena getting heavier and heavier. Deeply inhaling, you relished the scent as you stared down the fighter with a gleeful expression.

“Y-You.. fucking… bitch…” the fighter hissed out, “I’m going to show you… not to mess with me!” He dug into his arms, revealed several vials filled with purple liquid.

“Uh-Oh! Looks like someone is going to resort using the goods! AHAHAH!” Winona cackled, “Will the little buttercup make it through this fight?!” The spectators cheered, excited.

“KILL HER! END HER!” the old man shouted, “I’M BETTING GOOD MONEY ON YOU ASSHOLE!”

“Shut the fuck up you wrinkly old bastard!” Winona screeched out, “NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO BE LOUD IN HERE OTHER THAN ME!” She took out a gun, pointing at the old man, “Yell again and I will shoot you!” She cocked the gun.

The old man growled, shrinking back on his seat. Cetus chuckled, shaking his head, “Winona, tone it down, please. It’s only a playful banter.” 

“Yes, Master!” Winona said, putting away her gun, resuming her commentary, “The brutish asshole has activated the serum in his system! Ladies and gentlemen, you are about to given a spectacular fight!”

The fighter’s arms and legs grew in size, bulging mass, causing him to hunch over in all fours. You only stared, giggling and clapping.

“sToP giGgLiNg yOu biTcH!” the fighter shouted, his voice deeper and raspy, “I will kill you!” He lunged forward, landing a punch on you. This threw you back, the crowd gasping, some standing to get a better look. Cetus leaned forward, waiting. You remained on the ground, sprawled.

The fighter began to laugh, his garbled voice echoing in the ring, “Hahaha! I told you I’d wipe that fucking smile off your face! Didn’t last long!” 

Before Winona could announce anything, another laughing voice mingled with his. The fighter stopped laughing, eyeing your body. Your body shook as you kept laughing, rolling on your back.

You were alive.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHA!” you smacked the ground several times, standing up, swaying back and forth, “Ehehehhehee……!”

“What the fuck?!” the fighter shouted, stepping back. Winona screeched in excitement, “SHE’S FUCKING ALIVE FOLKS AND NOT HINDERED BY THE MEGA PUNCH OF THE BRUTISH ASSHOLE!”

“What the hell, she shouldn’t have survived that!” “She’s still laughing!”

“Is she using the serum as well?” “How is she still standing?”

Cetus smirked, enjoying the confusion from the crowd. You had no body mods and serum in your system, what everyone was looking at, that was your pure form, molded by training. Everyone was to bear witness to it.

“Stop laughing!” the fighter yelled, roaring as he delivered another punch. You landed against the wall, falling forward, still laughing. He was about to punch you before you dodged, rolling away and standing up, laughing. 

“S-STOP IT!” he kept shouted, “STOP LAUGHING!”

“Ehehhee….!” You kept dodging his attacks, some of them landing, but you quickly recovered. The fighter didn’t stop, trying to crush you. It wasn’t long before everyone saw he was getting fatigued, breathing heavily. Cetus smiled.

You were pushing your opponent to the limit.

“Y-You fucking… bitch…!” he breathed out, struggling to maintain his form. His body further mutated, causing him pain. One of his arms shrunk while the other grew bigger in size, causing him to stumble.

“THE PRECIOUS DOLL HAD A STRATEGY LADIES AND GENTLMEN! WHAT A FUCKING AMAZING PULL!” Winona shouted, stomping the floor, “WHAT GRACE!”

You tilted your head, giggling, then lunged forward. The crowd gasped, glued to your movements as you dodged a punched, using a chain to wrap it around your opponent. He gagged, gasping for air. You pulled down at the chains, your opponent falling backwards on his back. Stepping on his face, you used another chain to keep his jaw open. He tried to grab you, but you punched his lower jaw, causing him to screech.

“SHE DELIVERS A BRUTAL BLOW!” Winona announced, excited, “SHE IS DOMINATING THIS!”

You delivered another punch after punch, laughing, breaking his lower jaw. Before he could react more, you tugged at it, pulling hard, ripping it off.

“RIPPED IT CLEAN!” Winona yelled, “SHE RIPPED HIS FUCKING LOWER JAW OFF!” She screeched, amazed.

The crowd went wild, cheering and whooping. You held the broken jaw in your hand, laughing. The fighter thrashed, holding his bleeding mouth. Growling, the old man slammed his fist down.

“Unacceptable! There is still no way!” he said, standing up, turning to face Cetus.

“I can assure you, there is no rigging here,” Cetus brought up a screen, pressing a code, “You can see for yourself.” A loud hiss alerted you of newcomers that fell from the roof. Their giggling mingled with yours.

Three Jesters.

The lobotomized bandits stared at you, grinning, displaying their sharp teeth, courtesy of body mods. Cetus snapped his fingers, the jesters immediately running towards you. Humming a little tune, you jumped, dodging their initial attacks. One of the jesters managed to grab your leg, swinging you up, another jester punching you in mid-air. You landed on the ground, the last jester delivering a kick. 

Rolling over, you cackled, wiping the blood from your mouth. The jesters regrouped, laughing as well. 

“Bye, bye…” you sang out, rushing forward and delivering a kick to one of the jesters, pouncing and twisting their head. The remaining jesters screeched at their fallen comrade, weeping. Angered, they tried to land punches, but you dodged, causing them to land hits on each other. Using the chains, you coiled it around one of the legs of the jesters, dragging them towards you. Before they could react, you bashed their head on the ground, blood splattering on you. 

The last remaining jester cried out, “Friend….!”

The little monster wanted the jester to reunite with their friends. Who were you to deny that request? You rushed forward, punching the jester on the face, bringing them down. The jester tried to bite you but was met with your fist. Punch after punch after punch, you kept going.

“No rigging, my friend. She’s even able to take down three jesters by herself,” Cetus said.

“You control those jesters! Its easy to make them tame to be punching bags!” the old man countered. The commented did not sit well with the others.

“How dare you question Master!” the other people in the crowd surrounded the old man, “We cannot allow that…” The old man stepped back, snarling. 

“I have important business and political connections! Don’t you dare lay a hand on me!” he shouted. The crowd grew restless, inching closer to the old man. A hand was placed on his shoulder, startling him.

Cetus smiled, “Please everyone, no need to get violent. We shall talk this out, civilized.” He was met with a chorus of ‘Yes, Master,’ the crowd dispersing to their seats. The corporate bigwigs and politicians still sneered at the old man. 

“Come now, let me show you something,” Cetus said, ushering the old man close to the ring, gesturing down at you. Sitting on top of the Jesters’ bodies, you remained oblivious to the drama unfolding in the spectator area, only smiling.

“While others resort to the serum or dirty tactics, she uses strategy and the ability to read her opponents… something that I feel many have forgotten,” Cetus explained, tapping on the old man’s shoulder, “Her youthful look lures others to think she’s weak before she strikes.”

“What are you getting at?” the old man accused, “It’s hard to believe she doesn’t have body mods…”

“How about you look for yourself?” Cetus asked, face neutral.

“Wha- AH!” the old man was pushed by Cetus into the ring, the crowd quickly going towards the edge of the arena, joyous at new action.

“What is the meaning of this?!” the old man shouted, struggling to get up. Winona grinned, chuckling, “Don’t insult Master’s pet… that’s insulting him directly…” The crowd began laughing, pointing at the old man. Cetus stood there, expression still neutral but tranquil fury oozing through his eyes. Cepheus, approached him, waiting for the next command.

“N-NO! NO!” the old man shouted, turning to face you, frightened. 

You were staring at him, smiling. New prey. The little monster loved having new toys to play with.

“Cepheus,” Cetus said, “Send the order.”

Cepheus whistled, clicking with his tongue. You got up, limping forward before rushing to the old man who screamed. Pouncing on him, you started to choke him with your chains, his feeble attempts to hit you causing you laugh. You pried his mouth open with the end of the chain, ripping his lower jaw out. You didn’t stop there, digging into his eyes, ripping his tongue out, the spray of blood landing on your face. Delirious with bloodlust, you zoned out the laughter and cheering from above, more concerned in feeling the soft flesh under your fingertips.

You started punching his face, hearing the sickening crack of the delicate bones, ripping and tearing flesh. Cetus watched from above, amused. Cepheus by his part, tried to keep calm, his constitution wavering as he watched you pummel the now dead old man further.

Overkill.

A complete monster.

“Ladies and gentlemen…. THE JAWBREAKER IS VICTORIOUS!” Winona announced, bright flashing of lights going off, “A ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR THE JAWBREAKER!” Your first victory. You made it out alive and were bestowed a name.

The crowd of corporate bigwigs and politicians applauded, cheering and congratulating Cetus for your win. Cetus smiled, proud. You looked up at him, grinning through the blood.

He had wonderful plans for you.

You were part of the Trinity family now.

\------000000000-------

Troy moved his jaw, then split it open, eyeing himself on the full-length mirror located in the Calypsos’ living room area. Although he hadn’t gotten in a physical fight with you since the raid at the Skullmasher’s bandit camp, he was nervous on how quickly you subdued the other playthings and ripped their jaws off. His own jaws ached just thinking about it. 

“I highly doubt she’ll rip yours out,” Tyreen said, picking up on his discomfort. She was currently sitting on the lavish couch, petting your hair. You were passed out, laying on the couch with your head on Tyreen’s lap, Troy’s jacket covering you up. The twins had brought you back to their living quarters for the night since their place was closest to the arena than your hut. You were exhausted by the time you arrived to complain further, freaking Tyreen out when you got comfortable and fell asleep on her. She was the nearest source for warmth.

The tall Calypso snapped his jaws back, adjusting, “I know… I’m more of a ‘tear into people’s throats’ than the ripping their jaws off kind of dude… I guess I got used to the playthings just shooting at each other.” He approached Tyreen and you, sitting on top of the make-shift ottoman. 

“So, Trinity, huh? Corporate and politicians mingling and using bandits for their sick stuff,” Troy mused, reaching out to pat you on the cheek. You squirmed, but didn’t stir from your sleep. 

“Rich people have too much time on their hands,” Tyreen said, resting her hand on your head, “But it seems they like to make friends with bandit lords. This Rat King, he never got into our territory and I’m surprised he never counterattacked after the Atlas stronghold raid.”

“If he’s working for Master and his organization, maybe he was ordered not to attack,” Troy growled, “Probably cause we had to retreat from that fucker creature.” He grabbed his dim red vial, the feeling of his back getting torn burned into his mind. Tyreen glanced at the vials, frowning.

“We’ll have to go back to mother, so she can replenish them,” Tyreen whispered, knowing how much Troy hated the blood rituals, “The sacrifices aren’t enough at the moment to keep you up for another raid.” 

Troy rubbed his face in frustration, “Ugh, I know… Leech picked up on that, if other groups do… fuck, its just one big mess.” 

“We haven’t made much progress in the Vaults as well,” Tyreen began playing with your hair, enjoying the soft feel of it, “The Crimson Alliance are also chasing Vaults and with that picture that Master jerk sent, so does he. I wonder if she knows anything about that?”

“Perhaps. At least she’s talking to us about it…” Troy rested his arms on his lap, staring at your sleeping form. 

“….I wanted to ask about that Siren,” Tyreen looked down at you, frowning, “Pip said Steele was a higher-up from the Atlas’ Crimson Lance, notoriously known by the other corporations for her brutality with bandits.”

“Who happened to kill the mechanic’s brother,” Troy added, checking out the old scars on your arm, “I guess she saw it happen.”

“And why she kept calling me a monster from the beginning…” Tyreen sighed, leaning back against the couch, “’Sirens are a plague, monsters’ is what she told me in the infirmary…” Troy shook his head, letting go of your hand.

“You need to keep your jealousy in check,” Troy warned, standing up, “Be grateful that at least she’s letting you get near.” He gestured at you, your head resting on Tyreen’s lap.

Tyreen nodded, sighing, “To think that I’m at the whim of a plaything…” She wasn’t denying that she was in love with you. 

“I guess we both are,” Troy said, heading down the hallway.

“You’re going to bed now?” 

“I’m just going to freshen up, bringing some blankets and pillows over,” Troy replied, his voice growing faint, “I’ll switch with you when I come back.”

“For what?” Tyreen was confused, you were going to be taken to your old bedroom.

“Sleepover in the living room!” he shouted, laughing. Tyreen snorted, a tiny smile on her face. At least her brother was being more cordial with her at the moment.

\------000000-------

Hephaestus kept ranting about Eridian artifacts and languages, lost in thought, not noticing the straggler grabbing on to his lab coat. You held on tight with your tiny hands as your brother walked around his lab. 

“If I’m able to decipher this codex, I should be able to pinpoint a Vault, but it leaves into question how to open the damn thing without it alerting everyone and their mothers,” Hephaestus said, pausing. You bumped into him, yelping. 

“Or maybe I can create a device to only pierce a bit the portal, one-person entry!” Hephaestus shouted, resuming his walk, dragging you further around the floor.

“Epa!” you squealed, trying to get his attention, “Epa!” Your brother stopped, turning to look at your empty playpen, “What….” He looked down, startled.

“What the fuck, how did you get out?!” Hephaestus knelt down, amazed.

“FUCK!” you shouted, laughing.

“O-Oh no! Don’t! Nope, nope! Naughty girl!” Hephaestus scolded you but you giggled when he wagged a finger at you. Your brother gazed at the playpen, noticing a hole ripped through the side.

“How did you manage to get out?” he wondered out loud, pondering. He suddenly yelped, feeling your teeth sink into his hand. 

“Ow, ow, ow! No! Let go!” Hephaestus pleaded, trying to pry you off his hand. You complied, huffing. 

“Ow, that hurt, you Shorty McShortyface,” he said, heading to the lab sink to wash the wound, “Great, you’re teething already at this stage? Explains how you chewed through the playpen net…” You pouted, sitting on the floor.

Hephaestus cleaned the wound, dressing it up. He checked his cabinets, taking out a small vial of pills and popping one into his mouth. He eyed his wound, then back at you. You flashed him a toothy grin, small sharp teeth peeking through.

“Huh, just like me when I was your age…” Hephaestus said, frowning, “You’re not even a year old and yet you have excelled the benchmarks of a full-grown toddler.” He went to his computer, bringing up a file up titled ‘VULCAN PROJECT.’ His expression soured at seeing a picture of his younger self there.

“To think I’d have to consult with this to figure out how to take care of you….” Hephaestus whispered, feeling hands on his leg. He looked down, meeting your curious gaze.

“Sleep,” you said, pointing at the clock on the wall. The red letters glared back at Hephaestus, marking late hours of the night, close to the morning of the next day.

“Oh… you wanted me to go to sleep…” he blinked, picking you up, “I’m here trying to take care of you and yet you are the one looking after me…. Displaying strong social bonds… even communicating at your extremely young age… Other kids would just throw a temper tantrum,” He hugged you gently, heading to the crib. You fussed, grabbing on to him.

“No…” you shook your head, “Sleep…!”

“Ugh… okay… I’ll let you sleep next to me,” Hephaestus headed to his own bed, next to your crib. He placed you on the bed, going to your crib to pick up your pillow and blankets as well as a stuffed toy. Making yourself comfortable, you settled down, hugging your toy, waiting for your brother. He went to another room to change, coming out in a shirt and loose pants. You babbled on, patting the spot next to you.

“Fine, fine, I’m going to sleep,” Hephaestus said, getting into bed, tucking you in with your blankets and bringing his blanket up, “Happy?” You cooed, snuggled close to him. He chuckled, kissing you on the top of your small head.

“We’ll be okay, I think. Baby steps…” he whispered, holding back tears, “I won’t let nothing bad happen to you…” You kept quiet, hearing your brave brother silently cry. Despite your rapid growth and ability to understand your surroundings, you wondered what made him cry, even after all those years.

\----00000-----

‘Hepha…’

You snuggled more, enjoying the warmth provided by the other body next to you. Your mind didn’t pay attention to the arms wrapped around your sleeping form or the hand scratching your head. Limp and relaxed, you were sleepily enjoying it until it sunk in you weren’t in your hut.

Opening your eyes, you were met with purple and splashes of white, a glimpse of glowing blue swirls peeking through the neck of the person you were snuggling to: Tyreen. You glanced up, the Siren Calypso fast asleep, her arms wrapped around you. Trying to look back, you saw Troy’s hair, feeling his forehead pressed against your back and his hand the one in your hair. You caught a glimpse of Troy’s mechanical arm laying on the couch, tucked in with a blanket. You never recalled him removing his arm before, but it was such an odd display.

You snorted, failing to contain your laughter. It even had a small sleeping hat on. Everything you’ve seen thus far in the CoV didn’t match up to this.

“Pft, HAHAHAHAAH!” you lost the will, waking up the twins.

“W-What’s going on?!” Tyreen shot up, still holding you, her hair all over the place.

“Who do I have to maim?!” Troy shouted, slowly snapping his jaws open, his own hair covering part of his face. 

You kept laughing, covering your mouth. They both stared at you, the source of the noise.

“I’m sorry… I just.. I just saw that… pft…” you gestured at Troy’s detached arm, the twins following your line of sight. 

“Wow, rude, you woke my arm up,” Troy teased. You laughed harder, grabbing a pillow and stuffing your face on it. They couldn’t tell if you were still laughing or crying.

“Really, Troy?” Tyreen said, “Ugh, and you even brought out the little hat.”

“I did say it was a sleepover,” Troy countered, “The arm RSVP’ed.” This got you going, laughing more, tears were coming out. 

“J-Just stop… I’m still hurting on the side,” you wheezed, the twins grinning. They both pushed you back on the mattress Troy hauled out last night, laughing with you. 

“I’m sure this was ‘jaw-dropping’ to you…?” Tyreen attempted, chuckling as you kept laughing.

“I mean, you have to ‘hand’ it to me, I thought of this sleepover,” Troy added, poking your cheek. 

“Oh, I can’t feel my cheeks…” you said, face flushed from the laughter. You hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time. 

Tyreen cuddled with you, enjoying the moment. You didn’t flinch at her touch or pull away. Troy rested his head on your shoulder, content. You didn’t push him away. This had been the closest to physical contact the twins had received from you in a while. Though, they weren’t pushing their luck. 

“We have a few more hours before someone comes in looking for us,” Tyreen said, not wanting this to be over. 

“Yeah, let’s sleep in,” Troy added, grinning. 

“Way ahead of you…” you replied, dozing off. The little monster agreed with them for once.

\-------0000000--------

You have (1) message in your inbox.

Open? (Yes/No)

(Yes)

[Image sent is a still from the LiveScream, you are in the arena, bowing, the hanging bodies dangle above.]

! INCOMING MESSAGE !

.:Unknown User: Greetings, did you enjoy the display? :3

.:Unknown User: The God Queen couldn’t kill her. What makes you think you can? :3c

.:Unknown User: My associate is on edge after what you did. : (

.:Unknown User: There’s no telling what they’ll do. :D

YOU CAN NO LONGER SEND MESSAGES TO THIS USER

.:Unknown User: Aw, can’t handle the truth, Prophet Donovan? 

\-----000000-----

“Where are the Twin Gods? It’s close to noon,” Donovan said, “They are not answering their EchoNet messages…” His broken EchoNet device laid in pieces on the floor. The medic general looked at Donovan then at the device.

“Probably in a tangled limb mess with the plaything. They left with her after the arena fight,” Pip offered, cackling, “I guess they are on her good graces again.” Donovan was disgusted.

“What? I’m not wrong, if anything its excellent news that our God Queen is in a good mood,” Pip said, taking out a cigarette and lighting it up, “Ever since she gave her plaything a beating, she’s been in a mopey, dampening mood.”

“Ugh, how annoying,” Donovan hissed out, “How long before they stop playing with her?”

“Troy delivered a report last night about what Tyreen’s plaything spilled on about that Master guy, I call that progress,” Pip offered, “What the God Queen does with her plaything is her thing, albeit under threat right now. Don’t worry about it… unless…”

“Unless what? Spit it out,” Donovan demanded.

“Or is your mood sour because Troy is still pissed off for what you did to Helen?” Pip said, taking a drag from his cigarette, “Falling from favor?”

“Shut your fucking mouth…” Donovan growled, “As if Father Troy will ever let some bedwarmer get in the way of his agenda for the CoV. He, of all people, should know what sacrifices were made for us to reach this point.”

“There’s only so much someone can handle before they snap,” Pip replied, “Father Troy is pretty good at keeping that bottled up. Who knows what will be the thing to make him…. lose control.” The medic general was confident it would be soon after what had happened to you. The current relationship between the twins was frayed, but slowly recovering. As for the right-hand man and Troy… that was another drama in its own.

“Those fucking fumes from the morgue have messed with your head,” Donovan said, leaving the Surveillance Room. Pip laughed, leaning back on his chair, playing with a vial recovered from one of the jesters.

“Oh, Donovan, can’t wait to dissect your body when you end up in the block,” Pip joked, grinning.

\--------0000000---------

Tyreen and Troy were sound asleep while you laid awake between them. You had tried to go back to sleep, but dreams of old memories regarding your brother resurfaced. The twin’s breathing was evened out, providing a calming effect on you. Whenever you had a nightmare or your brother would come back from his jobs after being away for a long time, you’d have a sleepover with him, chatting and talking about the new tech or robotics he had worked on. Now, you had ‘one’ with the Calypsos albeit you were asleep when it was decided. 

Before, the times you’d sleep with Tyreen, her old behavior irritated you when she’d force you to spend the night with her. After the beating and you recovering, she drastically changed, shying away or not getting physical with you. At least she kept her hands to herself, no more hair pulling or slaps. You wondered if this was temporary. 

On Troy, he’d pester you around before you had knowledge of Helen and her connection with him. Ironically, even though he was nicer than Tyreen, your mood was sourer with him after Helen’s death. It got worse after the arguments in the infirmary, pushing the Calypso to dial back with his physical interactions, perhaps worried he’d upset you more.

A lot of things changed throughout the year and half of being captured by the Calypsos, including yourself. You admitted that despite trying to push people away from you, more were pulled towards you. It never crossed your mind that you’d have a ‘friend,’ Perseus providing support you had craved back out in the wastes. If anything, you were more afraid of getting scolded by him than the twins, his own words carrying more weight. Then there was Jackal, the priest you met on your first day, now becoming another friend of yours under sad circumstances. Around others, you were distant at first, now more ‘friendlier’ with the warehouse mechanics and some cultists. 

The Children of the Vault had changed you and part of you hated that, the other part growing more accepting of it. With the current Let’s Flay, you had participated so the cult could live another day and not get attacked by Cetus and Trinity.

“I have shitty luck…” you whispered, fighting back tears. You longed for the day to be free. 

You let go, crying. The little monster cried as well, feeling your pain.

Your soft sobs woke up the twins, who looked at you with concern. 

“What’s wrong?” Troy asked, wiping your tears. Everything was wrong.

“You okay?” Tyreen asked, holding your hand. You were never okay. 

/We’ll be okay, I think. Baby steps. I won’t let nothing bad happen to you./ Hephaestus cried that night, holding you as if his life and yours depended on it. Someone that always had a smile on his face, cracking jokes, and making sure others were okay was downright miserable and scared.

You cried harder, sitting up, remembering the feeling of your brother’s protective embrace. When he held you after you fell from climbing on top of a hut to watch the night sky, when he held you as you fought a fever, when he held you as he twirled you around in a hug after coming back from work, when he held you to tease you and ruffle your hair….

When he held you as he ran through the chaotic wasteland trying to escape the Crimson Lance.

You held him as he drew his last breath, uttering his last words:

“I love you.”

You covered your face, shaking, wailing. Troy pulled you into his lap, Tyreen scooting to his side, hugging him and you. 

“Its okay…” Tyreen whispered, alarmed at your sudden mood change. She wiped your tears, frowning. Troy rested his chin on your head, humming. You managed to calm down, hiccupping and sniffing. 

“Who needs an alarm clock when the mechanic wails?” Troy said, jokingly. Tyreen glared at him, but relaxed when she heard your small laugh. 

“Don’t encourage him, he’ll make a puppet show with his mechanical arm,” Tyreen teased, smiling when you laughed more. Sniffing, you gazed down. The twins were holding your hand, Tyreen gently caressing your knuckles while Troy drew circles on your skin with his thumb. 

“Nightmare?” Troy whispered. 

You nodded, not wanting to talk about your brother, hoping they would be satisfied with the answer. He hummed, moving his hand to rub your back. Tyreen furrowed her eyebrows.

“Not about you, if that’s what you’re thinking,” you said.

“Oh…” she mumbled, feeling guilty, “I..”

A ping sounded off, directing attention to the couch. Tyreen got up, removing the blankets to pick up an EchoNet device, reading the message.

“Ugh, Donovan is messaging us, we should get going, Troy,” Tyreen sighed, tossing the device back on the couch. You removed yourself from Troy’s lap, helping him up from the mattress. He didn’t miss the look of irritation on your face when Donovan’s name was mentioned. 

“Right, right, we didn’t have the meeting last night,” Troy said, grabbing his mechanical arm, sitting on the couch, “A little help?” Tyreen adjusted the lock mechanism on Troy’s shoulder, adjusting the arm in and setting it in place. He moved his arm and hand, satisfied.

“Thanks, now to get back to work, ugh,” Troy got up, stretching, “You can run along, we’ll be picking up our conversation from last night later today, alright?” You nodded, wiping your face from dried tears. So far, so good with the progress of your plan. 

“I’ll take her to freshen up before leaving,” Tyreen said, extending her hand out to you, “I’ll catch up.” 

Troy gave her a questioning look, but nodded, “Alright, I’ll see you in the Surveillance Room.” He ruffled your hair, giving you a quick peck on the cheek, grinning. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you grabbed Tyreen’s hand. Troy took off, heading to his room. 

Tyreen led you back to your old bedroom, opening the door for you. Dashing to the bathroom, you busied yourself, washing your face. Your mirror self stared back, puffy eyes and all. At least this time you weren’t covered in bruises or cuts. Splashing more water, you dried off, startled when you saw Tyreen by the bathroom door.

“I-I didn’t mean to scare you…” she said, raising her hands up.

“I wasn’t expecting you there, is all,” you replied, setting the towel down.

Tyreen stepped inside the bathroom, approaching you cautiously. You eyed her with suspicion, gripping at the bathroom counter. She stopped in front of you, pushing you against the counter. You braced yourself, thinking she was going harm you. To your surprise, she held you in a hug. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry for what I did to you…” Her hand found its way on your side that had the stitches. Tyreen closed her eyes, resting her head on your shoulder, not letting go. Your hand found its way to her head, petting it. 

You didn’t move or respond, only continuing your gesture. 

/‘Please forgive me.’/

After weeks leaving this same bedroom, the purple hyacinths were still alive back at your hut, glowing and healthy. 

Unlike your relationship with Tyreen. 

She was trying, you gave her credit, but you were in no rush to forgive her. Tyreen placed her hand on your chest, hearing your heartbeat, then tracing the scar on your neck. 

The same one her and Troy healed up. The same one that taunted the Calypsos after you tried to kill yourself. To get away from the God Queen.

You’d wear baggy shirts that covered your CoV mark, but with the scar, it was completely gone, everyone seeing it when you switched to tank tops. The Calypsos hadn’t bothered giving you another mark, leaving it as is. You, by your part, showed it off, reminding the twins of the event that transpired in the infirmary. 

“You’re going to be late,” you said, pulling your hand away from her hair, “Troy will start to worry that you are taking long with me.” Tyreen nuzzled your neck, sighing. You hadn’t pushed her away. She missed the intimate physical contact with you, constantly yearning. Getting bold, she licked your neck, feeling you shudder, hearing your breathing pause. You gripped her arm, squeezing it. 

“I’m still healing,” you stated, pushing her other arm away, “You have to go.” Tyreen pulled away, frowning. 

“Y-Yeah…” she said in defeat, but happy you were talking more to her, “I’ll see you later?” Tyreen looked at you, hoping. You nodded, remembering the meeting later on. She smiled, heading out of the bathroom.

“I’ll call a priest to escort you out,” Tyreen said, leaving the room. You remained in place, wondering what happened. Touching your neck, your mind fed you images of Tyreen’s hands all over your body, minus the hair pulling and slaps. You snorted, your own mind an enemy of yours. The little monster pushed those thoughts away, angry.

\-----00000000-------

“The God Queen’s plaything revealed the name of the organization that this Master guy controls,” Troy said, bringing up the photos on the displays, “We can infer from the arena fight that she was responsible for the acts in the image of the bodies hanging, in a triangular formation after the fight with the Terror of the Waste bandit, Cepheus.”

“Trinity is the name of this organization, she mentioned corporate executives, politicians, and celebrities partake in these fights, placing bets,” Tyreen added, “The name ‘Jawbreaker’ was her nickname in there.”

“Huh, but that Jester creature called her ‘Queen’ back when she fought it out in the wastes,” Donovan said, gesturing at the remains of the jesters in front of Pip. 

“We didn’t get far in discussing more with her, but she will be summoned later on,” Troy informed, “She’s aware of the situation with Master and that he is watching our movements.”

“Can we really trust her?” Basil asked, crossing his arms, “Why take this long to tell us anything?” He and his crew spent the night taking the bodies down at the arena. 

“You can’t blame her for not saying anything, she was captured by us,” Moksha pointed out, shrugging, “Plus she does get defensive, had to bail several warehouse inspectors from getting beaten up by her.” Troy chuckled, recalling some of the incidents. 

“I trust her,” Tyreen said, receiving odd looks from Basil and Donovan. Troy smirked.

“I do as well,” Pip said, picking up several broken body mods from the tray, “We must. If we don’t, we are going blind against this guy.”

“Well, I don’t,” Donovan declared. The Calypsos expected that, but refrained from showing any anger. 

“Same, what if she was sending a message to that Master jerk during that spectacle at the Let’s Flay? The triangular mark, the old Terror of the Waste bandit and her flashed each other those marks,” Basil said, bringing up a still image from your fight with Cepheus, displaying your mark and Cepheus own. 

“In the infirmary, she reasoned her participation was to ‘save our skins,’” Troy countered, “That’s when she stated she knew Master was watching us.”

“It doesn’t take a lot to deduce she figured out the outpost attacks correlated with her… unfortunate state not too long ago,” Pip said, glancing at Tyreen who growled. 

“What about the PK guy?” Moksha asked, “Did she mention anything about it?”

Troy shook his head, “She didn’t bring that guy up, only Master. We’ll ask her about it. For now, keep tabs on our outposts and beef up our armory, we might have to conduct another raid soon enough.” 

“Yes, sir!” 

Donovan narrowed his eyes, agitated. The timing was too coincidental in his opinion, the taunting message from Master and your brazen display at the Let’s Flay.

He had to keep an eye on you, believing the Calypsos’ lust for you blinded them to the danger you posed.

\------0000000------

Whistling at the collection of guns Jackal was handling, you approached Perseus, taking a peek at your friend’s work. The priest was placing the guns away in smaller boxes and stashing them away under the floorboards of his study. The cathedral had become a haven for you and Perseus, turning it into a makeshift workshop for smaller projects.

“What you got going on?” you asked, “Messing with the digistructors?” You pulled a stool up, sitting next to Perseus.

“Maybe,” Perseus teased, lifting his glasses up, “I found a power core in today’s scrap shipment, so now the digistructors will be up and running smoothly.”

“At least he’s not working on more guns,” Jackal quipped, “I’ll be running out of floorspace soon enough.” Perseus rolled his eyes, resuming his work.

You laughed, smacking Perseus on the back, “You’re the MVP in here Perseus, tackling these projects. You went all out with the small info I gave you on the blueprints.”

“Why, thank you, my good lady,” Perseus grinned, “Pray tell, how did it go last night with the Twin Gods? You didn’t show up at the bar.”

“Left us hanging,” Jackal said, putting a sad face but chuckling.

“Oh my goodness!” you rubbed your face, having forgotten, “I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you two later!”

Perseus and Jackal busted out laughing.

“It’s all good, did you talk to them about Cetus…?” Perseus inquired, pausing his work. Jackal looked at you, curious as well.

“I did… We didn’t get far, it was a bit emotional on my part,” you confessed, leaning on the workbench, “Obviously I didn’t reveal ‘intimate’ knowledge… at least not yet, you know?” You bit your nail, nervous.

“I’m surprised they didn’t push you for more information, they tend to be more ‘forceful’ when it comes to the enemy,” Jackal said, sitting by his desk.

“Huh, after what the God Queen did to her… I doubt they want to go that route,” Perseus said, “Plus, there’s that threat of Cetus attacking again if you are hurt, right?” You nodded, somewhat grateful the Calypsos were afraid of Cetus.

“A blessing in disguise,” you said, sighing, “Well, then, I’ll discuss with you two what I hope pans out later on with the Calypsos….”

\-------00000000----------

Summoned to Tyreen’s throne room, you were only expecting the Calypsos there, but all generals were present alongside the twins. In front of Pip were trays with body parts that you recognized from the Jesters, your blood running cold. You had to keep the little monster at bay, the urges to fight were an all-time high with Donovan in the room. Jackal followed along with you, bowing once he approached the main threshold.

“My Twin Gods, I have brought the God Queen’s plaything,” Jackal said, keeping his gaze down, but you noticed his snarl. You weren’t the only one peeved at Donovan’s presence.

“Thank you, Jackal. You are dismissed,” Troy said, beckoning you to step forward. Jackal bowed again, departing from the throne room. He sneered at Donovan who returned it, seen by everyone else.

“I don’t see why you keep him around,” Donovan said once Jackal left. Troy narrowed his eyes, keeping his expression neutral, “What we do with the priests does not concern you, Donovan.”

“Alright, settle down,” Pip interjected, “We’re here to get answers.”

Tyreen walked over to you, grabbing your hand, directing you to the console in the center. You had been glaring at Donovan during the exchange. Troy huffed at his right-hand man, making his way to you as well. 

“I guess this is my show and tell?” you inquired, eyeing everyone. Moksha waved at you, chuckling. Basil seemed peeved, but gave you a nod. Pip was playing around with a familiar vial, grinning at you. Donovan was looking away. 

“If you see it that way, yes,” Troy said, bringing up displays of the images Master sent over via the EchoNet forums, “We got these before the Let’s Flay.”

“Your hunch about the outpost attacks is true… He has been watching for a while,” Tyreen added, stressed, “He sent messages over to us in regards to your nickname ‘Jawbreaker.’”

You were confused. Messages?

“What do you mean by messages?” you asked, Tyreen displaying her and Troy’s EchoNet messages. Fear was creeping up on you. Was Cetus directly talking to the Calypsos? How much information had he divulge to them in regards to you? This would pose a problem to your plan, big time. The little monster screeched in your mind. 

For all to see, the messages from the Unknown User glared down at you:

! TIME XX:XX ! ! DATE: XX.XX.XX !

.:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

.:Unknown User: You’re in for a treat. I hope you like jawbreakers.

.:Unknown User: :3c

.:Unknown User: (candy emoji) (skull emoji)

~&~&~

! TIME XX:XX ! ! DATE: XX.XX.XX !

.:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

.:Unknown User: The arena no longer belongs to you.

.:Unknown User: It belongs to her now.

.:Unknown User: Her glorious stage, now fit for the Queen. (crown emoji)

Your eyes fell on the last line and a single word: Queen. The title that everyone in the organization called you by after years of being undefeated in the ring, bowing to you when you entered a room or great hall, expressing admiration and giving you tokens of worship, and the same title he used….

/A King always needs his Queen./

And the same one you used to name the little monster: Mad Queen. The one who would take over and pass judgment on everyone, feral and unhinged, the other you who felt no pain, only lust for blood. The one who was waiting to tear into Donovan. 

“He still calls me that…” you whispered, lost, forgetting others were around. The little monster was beating your mind up, reminding you about what Cetus did.

“Calls you what?” Troy said. You snapped out of your thoughts, looking around. Taking a deep breath, you calmed down. Everyone here was going to find out one way or another.

“….’Queen.’ Master also called me that…” you informed, clenching your fist. Tyreen stared at you.

“Wow, so we got two Queens in here? Oh boy,” Pip said, getting a glare from Troy, “So, what is it? Jawbreaker or Queen?”

“Like I said, Jawbreaker was my rookie name. After being unbeatable in fights organized by Trinity… I was given that title with Jawbreaker getting benched,” you informed, keeping your gaze low. Emotions locked away were slowly breaking through. Troy placed a hand on your shoulder, lightly squeezing it in assurance. It did little for your nerves.

“Are these the only messages?” you asked. Tyreen was still holding your hand, interlocking her fingers with yours. She hadn’t let go after the information about the title. Part of you hoped she wasn’t going to get jealous, it was enough dealing with her current dislike of Perseus.

“There were several with cryptic messages, images and videos sent to me and Tyreen. Pip received one when Jackal found you,” Troy informed, bringing the message up.

! TIME XX:XX ! ! DATE: XX.XX.XX !

.:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

.:???: You better save her life lest you want the whole place to burn down.

.:???: [USER SENDS IMAGE]

[Image is a still image from surveillance feed showing the medics bringing you out of your hut.]

“Got the message, obviously I saved your life,” Pip gestured at the body parts on the trays, “Somewhat didn’t matter, outposts were attacked, completely destroyed. All we received were distress signals, by the time our forces arrived, everyone was dead.”

You were confused by this new information. Cetus did not operate in that manner, as violent as he was, he wouldn’t resort to retribution after making a threat like that since Pip did manage to get you stabilized. Originally, you had thought he ordered the attacks as a way to show he was coming over to retrieve you or angry at you being hurt. 

“After the assaults, we got this message, however, someone other than this Master guy send it…” Troy said, swiping in the new message, “They sent it to all of us. They were the ones behind the attack.”

! TIME XX:XX ! ! DATE: XX.XX.XX !

.:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

.:P.K.: That was only the beginning. 

An emblem of a Knight was displayed, in colors of blue and red. You stared at the message and at the emblem.

“PK? I don’t know anyone with those initials…” you were baffled. It was close to three years since you had escaped and so much had changed? Cetus was always in control, never letting others do their own thing, disciplining anyone who dared to profit or make a mess out of Trinity. 

“No? They sound like they are attached to you,” Moksha said, “Some sort of admirer or something in that organization?”

“I, uh, no, I mean, its not like they were allowed to do anything… Master is a control freak,” you replied, “I’m surprised someone else ordered attacks…”

“You are out of the loop about that guy then,” Troy sighed, “Well, what about the Jesters? You mentioned they were experiments?”

You nodded, grabbing a piece of broken body mod, “Y-Yeah… As I told you and Tyreen, Trinity experimented on people, majority of them bandits… brainwashed them.. implanted several body mods… Jesters are at the bottom of the totem pole when it comes to the fights.”

“Fresh meat, so to speak huh?” Pip picked up a vial, trace amounts of purple liquid were visible, “Warm-ups for fights you said, plus, what is this thing? Is this what gives them that body mass increase, plus monstrous strength?”

“Yes…” you eyed the vial, remembering the large amount in stock back at the Atlas stronghold, “It’s a serum that boosts strength, stamina at the expense of mental control and stability. Other fighters would use it as well, almost like a steroid. Made the fights last longer for the VIP guests…” This caught everyone’s attention.

“Did you ever use it?” Tyreen asked, curious. Everyone was aware of your own strength in the arena.

“No. Master wouldn’t allow it,” you replied, squeezing her hand, “He didn’t want his… ‘doll’ tarnished…” You quickly looked down, having confessed another nickname he’d give you. You were Cetus’ little pearl doll while being Tyreen’s little bandit doll. What shitty luck. 

“Doll… huh… How ironic,” Pip said, laughing. Tyreen glared at him, hissing. He raised his hands in defense, still snickering. 

“Enough, Pip,” Troy growled, irked. He brought up another image, “The Master jerk sent this image of a Vault.” You glanced up, shocked about the content of the image. It displayed the Vault gate with the purple sludge and people bathing in it in the distance.

The Vault of Power.

Why would Cetus show them one the Vaults that Trinity discovered? You were aware he was watching, but what message was he sending to the-

The message was directed to you.

The message was directed to you.

The. Message.

Was. Directed.

To. You.

You began to breath heavily, wheezing, your chest burning up. The world spun, the colors of the display turning bright for you. Pip pushed the twins aside, sitting you down on a nearby chair. This startled them, Moksha and Basil looked on with worry while Donovan narrowed his eyes, stepping back. 

“H-Hey, focus on me, keep focus,” Pip ordered, “Take deep breathes, follow through with me.”

“What is happening to her?!” Tyreen asked, stopped by Troy from approaching.

“She’s having a panic attack,” Troy said, ushering the others to step away, “Let’s take a break.” Tyreen kept firm, but was dragged aside by Troy. 

You were trying to follow Pip, having a difficult time. The breathing exercises were helping a little, but the glaring image of the Vault was too much. 

“I-I need to step out, please, I need fresh air…” you pleaded, shaking. Pip helped you up, waving at the twins that he was leaving. Troy nodded, Tyreen getting agitated. The medic general led you out of the throne room.

“Give her space, Ty,” Troy said, crossing his arms. Tyreen huffed in defeat, knowing the truth behind Troy’s words.

“I know…” she said, glancing at the Vault image. Your reaction was confirmation that you were aware of the Vault’s existence.

\-------00000000-------

Pip observed you, letting you wander in an open area by the main complex. You were biting your nails, muttering to yourself, visibly shaking. After your slip up at the medical room, his concerns about your change in behavior alarmed him, having seen something similar with some Dahl soldiers. He knew it was a coping mechanism, an unhealthy one. The soldiers developed it as a way to detach themselves from the horrors they’d see plus the ones they’d commit. 

A numb sensation to quell the sense of guilt and pain. 

“You have shitty luck…” Pip muttered, taking out a cigarette and lighting it up.

You wandered around, your breathing going back to normal little by little, your brain on overdrive. It raced with various thoughts on how this put your plan in a pinch. You wanted the Calypsos out of their hub to deal with Donovan alone by using information about the Rat King. However, Cetus was slowly ripping your plan apart by throwing the curveball of the Vault. You weren’t privy to the CoV’s agenda and goals, but you and everyone out there knew that Vaults meant wealth of powers. 

The twins focus will switch to that, not some bandit lord. They’d probably demand to know the location and go there, maybe even take you with them. Growling, you pulled at your hair, irritated. Pip paid no attention, busy smoking, checking his EchoNet device.

“That fucker…” you hissed out, “Thinking he can read me and-“ You stopped in your tracks, staring at Pip on his device. The Calypsos and Pip had said they received messages from Master and the mysterious PK. The other generals made no mention of receiving any themselves. You didn’t doubt their loyalty to the Calypsos, but was there a chance one of them received one and not tell? It was stretch.

/I saw the footage, you went to look for Tyreen after meeting with Helen./ Jackal accused you of seeking out Tyreen despite insisting you hadn’t. The priest and you left the matter alone when he came to terms with who was responsible for his daughter’s death. 

“No fucking way…” you whispered, glancing at a nearby surveillance camera. Trinity had the resources and you had seen Winona doctored video material for several politicians, manipulating news and events in other planets to benefit the organization. Helen didn’t fit the type to get in Cetus’ crosshairs and her ambush attacks didn’t warrant the need to get involved, resorting to such drastic measures to convince her and Jackal about a meeting that never happened with Tyreen. To spite the God Queen? No, that, too, wasn’t Cetus’ way of doing things. Judging from the messages you were shown, he DIRECTLY taunted them.

Checking on Pip, you were clear, standing so your back was facing him but you were in view of the camera. It was another gamble you were on, hoping it would work. If Cetus hadn’t changed much his M.O. and if this worked, you’d have to adjust your plan. Drastically.

Discreetly, you tapped on your arm with a fingertip, pausing several times and resuming. You repeated the action again, eyeing the camera but not moving your head. The wait was eternal as you repeated the tapping. 

“What the fuck?” Pip said, looking at his EchoNet device. You turned around, feigning concern.

“Is something wrong?” you said, approaching him. 

He was reading the content of the message, looking up at you. Turning the device around, he showed you the contents:

:CHAT MESSAGE RECEIVED:.

.:Unknown User: : ) Q 2

.:Unknown User: [USER SENDS IMAGE]

[Image sent is a still of the main square of the CoV hub, giving a view of the cathedral, the Calypsos statues, the main central complex where you were currently in, the warehouses and some housing complexes.]

“W-What?” you said, observing the image. You immediately zeroed in front of the cathedral. 

Helen was leaving the cathedral followed by Jackal, her daggers visible.

The bar fight. 

“Why the fuck would he send this me?” Pip asked, taking the device again, another ping coming through, “He sent another one!” You hopped over to him, looking at the display.

.:Unknown User: :3 Q 1

.:Unknown User: [USER SENDS IMAGE]

[Second image is a still, same angle but it shows the night fall]

You noticed the change, Donovan was coming out of the cathedral. But there was another damning evidence, in the area by the bar, you could see the group of armed cultists and Troy. There were timestamps on the stills with the dates.

“We have to go back inside, I need to inform the Twin Gods,” Pip said, opening the door for you, “Let’s go.” You stood there, lost in thought. 

Cetus was indeed watching, managed to read your message through the tapping, and sent over answers for your questions.

‘Who else received direct messages from you?’

Donovan.

‘About what?’

Helen.

“Hey! We have to go back insi-“ Pip stared at you.

You were smiling, your expression darkened. This made your plan better, but you were going to need extra help aside from Perseus and Jackal. 

And you knew who to ask.

“Prophet Pip, care to hear something nice about those Jesters?” you asked, still smiling, “As thanks for saving my life.”

Pip glanced at his EchoNet device and then at you, smirking. Things were getting more interesting around here and as a person of science, he was itching to know more about these Jesters.

“Sure,” he replied, laughing, “Queen.”

Another ping came through in Pip’s EchoNet device.

.:Unknown User: :3c Payback is a bitch, Donovan.

\----00000000-------

“He is not walking a skag, what is taking them so damn long?” Basil said, growing impatient. Moksha sighed, rolling her eyes, “Why don’t you go FETCH them or something instead of complaining?”

“No fighting,” Troy demanded, not looking up from his EchoNet device, “Pip has been messaging me, she’s still recovering.”

“She freaked out when she saw the Vault image, any ideas?” Donovan asked.

“No, but I’m sure she will divulge that information when she comes back. We are still on our plan to open the Vaults,” Troy said. 

“That sludge material reminds me of slag, the byproducts of eridium that Hyperion had in Pandora,” Tyreen bit her finger, “It had strength enhancing abilities, but I thought only Pandora has those.”

“There’s that Vault in Elpis,” Moksha observed, “We do know Trinity has presence elsewhere from those outpost attacks.” 

“The Crimson Alliance would have taken over, I think,” Basil said, displaying a map of Crimson Raider camps in Pandora, the numbers extremely lower than the CoV camps, “None of our crew reported other opened Vaults.”

The doors hissed opened, revealing Pip and you. The twins immediately went towards you, Pip stepping aside.

“Don’t make it that obvious you two,” Pip teased, “Give her space.”

Troy huffed, turning his attention to you, “Feeling better?” You nodded, keeping your gaze down. Tyreen tilted your head up by your chin, frowning, “Want to stop?” Your eyes were puffy from crying.

“N-No. I’ll be okay now, I think I got it out of my system,” you replied, rubbing your arm, “I just wasn’t expecting seeing that Vault…” 

“That Vault? There are others?” Tyreen asked. It was expected they’d be more attentive to information about the Vault.

“Yes, there are others, but this one produces the base compound for the serum that you found in the Jesters,” you pointed at the vials and the body mods, “After the serum is produced, they are placed in vials and inserted into certain body mods.” 

“What about those people bathing in them?” Troy gestured at the background section of the image.

“Those… They are the people that become Jesters, they are bathed in that substance to get them ready for the body mod surgeries…” you replied, recalling the same surgeries you took part of. 

“…Is there any way to know if this Vault is still under their control?” Tyreen glanced at Troy, her Siren tattoos were glowing bright. Troy poked at his lone red vial, the substance inside glowing dim.

“Maybe… It’s been three years since I left – escaped – Trinity…” you confessed, sighing. You need to direct their attention to the Rat King. Your next move will be crucial depending on the twin’s responses. 

“Is it in Promethea?” Troy brought up the hologram of the planet. 

Your anticipation skyrocketed, “….Yes.” There was time to switch it around.

“Show us where its located,” Tyreen said, inching close to you, “We’ll send a scout group to survey the area.” So close, so close.

“Why do you need the Vault for? Its inactive,” you replied. Little crumbs of knowledge, take them.

“We have our ways,” Troy said, smirking, petting your head, “To open Vaults. Master jerk owes us for the outpost attacks, gotta get even you know?” Tyreen chuckled. The twin’s devious personality was showing up, hungry for the power of a Vault. 

“That thing is a Jester factory, are you sure the cultists will survive a minute?” you countered, a little irritated. You knew you were pushing their buttons. It was necessary for your plan. 

Donovan was quietly observing the exchange, amused. He could tell Troy and Tyreen were getting angry at you. When it came to Vaults, nothing mattered to them, not even playthings.

Not even you.

The twins stood in front of you, their icy blue eyes faintly glowing and glaring down at you. Unfazed, you stared back, a tiny smirk on your lips.

“You will tell us the location. Now,” Troy said, looming over you. 

“You are giving your army a death sentence if you send them over there now,” you stated, “You seem to have forgotten about those outpost attacks… Plus the Rat King’s Atlas stronghold that had that jester,” Troy narrowed his eyes, snarling, grabbing your arm. He applied a bit of pressure on it.

Tyreen reached out to grab your other arm, her Siren tattoos glowing bright, flaring. Your body wanted to shut down, pull away but you kept calm, not wanting to waver under pressure. You could feel her Siren hand warm against your skin.

“Doll…” Tyreen started, her own mind keeping her anger at bay, not wanting another repeat of the medical room incident, “Tell us the location.”

“For what? If you want the serum, its not worth getting it with Trinity around that area,” you spat out, your hands twitching. The little monster wanted to feel the Calypsos’ soft, squishy flesh. 

The twins were about to say something before interrupted by hands on their own arms. Pip tugged at them, forcing their grip away from your arms.

“Pip…” Troy growled out.

“May I need to remind the Twin Gods of the threat of Trinity if harm befalls the God Queen’s plaything…” Pip was angry, his voice low, not carrying the tiny hint of mischief, “I suggest the Twin Gods reconsider their methods of obtaining information.” You rubbed your arms, glaring at the Calypsos. The little monster was seething, cursing at Troy and Tyreen, calling them hypocrites for hurting you. You paid no attention to the little monster’s antics, but mildly surprised the twins were going to resort to hurting you for information. 

So much for the ‘love’ they had for you. 

“Tch, then what do you propose?” Troy asked, stepping away from you. Tyreen moved aside, crossing her arms, not looking at you, visibly frustrated. Donovan smirked, hoping the twins kept this up.

Pip checked your arms, noticing the light bruises left behind, shaking his head, “Is there an alternative for reaching this Vault without our war meat getting shredded apart?” 

“Unless you have some sort of Goliath factory amped up on steroids, maybe,” you said, eye twitching a bit. Tyreen’s bruise felt like fire. 

“We do have the army numbers, any chance those leftover body parts have serum in it? Maybe we can use that for our troops…?” Basil offered, wanting to ease the tension in the throne room. 

Bingo.

Pip was busy applying ointment and bandaging the bruise Tyreen left on you, “I only have one vial available that wasn’t damaged or contaminated, if we are doing testing for it, we have one shot.” He glanced up at you.

“…I know how it works and create a body mod for it,” you said, patting the bandage, flinching, “If anything, we can create small capsules and give those to few… test subjects… The effects will be minimized though.”

“You do know how it works?” Troy said, turning around to look at you. 

“I did reconstruct your spine connector and the plates in your body,” you hissed out, offended he forgot about that detail. He growled, still upset at you. 

“Are we sure in allowing the plaything to handle this?” Donovan questioned, not liking where this way heading to.

“That will be on Pip to decide that,” Tyreen said, somewhat relaxing her posture. She eyed your bandaged arm. 

“Of course, I will supervise and work on the materials, the plaything can leave me notes to work on,” Pip added, throwing a dirty look at Tyreen. She looked away.

“Well, tell me what you need and I’ll go get the materials,” Moksha said, approaching you, “I know what you are capable of for guns and mechanic work.” Troy hissed at her, the general smiling back. 

“Unfortunately, there is no way to replicate the serum,” you informed, grabbing the tablet that Moksha offered, making a list of items you needed and notes for Pip, “But I do know where there might be more in stock…” You gave the tablet back to Moksha.

“Where?” Troy crossed his arms, “Or will you keep that information to yourself as well?”

You growled, “The Atlas stronghold that was raided, if a Jester was there, there is bound to be supplies of the serum around.”

“There were bodies in crates with the serum, are those defective?” Pip took out several vials out, the substance darker.

“They are, its best to get them from their pure form and not from corpses, those are failed experiments,” you replied, “However, since it was only one, the supplies will be in low numbers. But there is another source as well,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “The Rat King is bound to have a higher quantity in his possession…”

Please take the bait. Please take the bait. 

“The Rat King again, huh?” Troy went to the console, pinpointing the Atlas stronghold, “The one who works directly for that Master jerk and Trinity…”

“Yes, he himself uses serum, I-I’ve seen the stockpiles…” you said, your throat tightening, “He hoards them at his main base.” You approached the console, eyeing it and pointing at a location past the Atlas stronghold and the wastes, “That’s where he’s located, past the marshlands…” Troy glanced at you.

You were shaking again and biting hard on your bottom lip.

“Are you sure about this?” Tyreen noticed your state as well. 

“I’m certain. I doubt he’s heavily fortified as the Vault, he only had his bandit crew and that’s it,” you stepped away from the console, “When are you trying the serum out?”

“Moksha will get the materials, Donovan and Troy will look for viable candidates immediately,” Tyreen said, dismissing Moksha from the meeting, “If we like the results, we’ll pay a visit to the Atlas stronghold and check out the supplies left behind.”

Troy stood next to Tyreen, smirking, “If not, we’ll pay the Rat King a visit, get his stash.”

Score.

You nodded, trying to contain your excitement. The little monster was in bliss, watching everything fall into place. 

“Very well… may I be excused? I’m sure you can handle this now… I need some time… alone…” you asked, a hand on your bandaged arm. 

“We still have more to talk-“ Tyreen was cut off. 

“I will escort you out,” Pip interjected, patting you on the shoulder, “You’ve had quite a day, better rest for a bit! If I need anything, I’ll just send for priest Jackal.” He grinned at the twins, pushing you towards the exit of the throne room. 

“Hey! We are not done talking to her- And they’re gone…Ugh…” Troy rubbed his face. 

Basil sighed, “Well, at least we got some progress with this Master bulllshit.” 

“Donovan, let’s go,” Troy ordered, “We need to find good candidates at the Naughty House.” Donovan bowed, following Troy out of the throne room. Basil deactivated the display screens, bowing at Tyreen, exiting the throne room, leaving her alone.

Tyreen stared at the doors of her throne room, touching her own arm, whispering, “I hurt her again…” She cursed at herself for her weaknesses. She punched the console.

\-------000000000--------- 

You rushed to the cathedral, hoping to find Perseus in Jackal’s study room. Ignoring the hissing priests, you barged in, throwing yourself on the makeshift bed on the floor that Perseus built, screaming into the pillow.

“What the hell?!” Perseus shouted, turning around from his workbench, “Andromeda?! What happened?!” Jackal stepped out from an adjacent room, shocked.

“What’s wrong, child?” Jackal knelt down, seeing you grip tight the pillow. You kept screaming, then lifted your head up, face red. 

“Aside from the fact I want to kill Donovan and perhaps the Calypsos…. Cetus almost ruined my plans in the span of the day…” you wheezed out, catching your breath, “But thankfully, everything worked out in the end… somehow, with little help.”

“Little help…? Who did you drag in?” Perseus asked, nervous. He removed his glasses and his gloves, smacking your shoulder with one of them. He then noticed your bandaged arm.

“Who did that to you?!” Perseus pointed at it, “Don’t tell me…”

“You were fine when we saw you earlier, don’t tell me the Calypsos did it?” Jackal growled. 

“….Tyreen did it, when I refused to give information about a Vault,” you laid your head on the pillow, frowning, “Its been a while since I’ve seen them angry at me. I only have a light bruise from Troy.”

“Father Troy as well?” Perseus sighed, upset. 

“Figures,” Jackal growled, “Wasn’t enough with the way he treated my daughter and now you.”

“Its okay…” you whispered, exhausted. 

“Its not,” Perseus declared, “The God Queen gave you a beating that almost killed you and you are saying ‘Its okay’ as if its normal?!”

“Perseus…” you looked up at him, a sad smile adorning your lips, “I’ve had worse… believe me… I’ve reached the point that I’m just numb to it all.” The little monster was responsible for it, shielding you. 

He knelt down next to you and Jackal, frowning, “Why does it have to be that way…?” Perseus reached out to touch your bandaged arm, “And don’t tell me because you are a plaything…”

You laughed, trying to keep the tears at bay, “I just have shitty luck is all… Do you mind if I take a nap here?”

“Go ahead,” Jackal said, tucking you in. You thanked him, feeling warm. 

“By the way, the help is Prophet Pip… he’ll be looking for me around these parts,” you said, grinning. Perseus shook his head, “I’m trusting you on this…” He touched your cheek, tracing a light scar on it.

“Ey, we’ll be okay…” you whispered, smiling, slowly falling asleep. Jackal fixed the pillow, a grim expression on his face. Soon, you were asleep, snuggling into the blankets. Perseus stared at you, his hand moving back to your bandaged arm. 

“….”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Jackal commented, giving him a sympathetic look, “Unable to protect.” 

“It does,” Perseus said, standing up and heading back to this workbench. He cursed at himself for his weaknesses. The Helenite pistol laid on his workbench, waiting for upgrades.

\----0000000-----

Pip hummed as he read the notes you left behind. He didn’t turn around when the doors to his main examination room opened. Picking up the treasured vial, he saw Troy on the reflection, standing by.

“What’s with the creeper vibe, Father Troy?” Pip asked, placing the vial down, taking out a pipette to sort the liquid into smaller capsules. Small, thin metal cylinders were placed in a sterile basket, contraptions that were made to dispense the capsules into the body of the test subjects, courtesy of you. 

“You think this will work?” Troy approached him, looking down at the capsules and the cylinders.

Pip shrugged, “Its all about trial and error, the plaything mentioned in the notes that we might see the effects at a smaller scale with the serum at lower dosage quantities.” He picked up a complete capsule, handing it to Troy. The tall Calypso eyed the liquid, observing it.

“To think that’s what juiced up that creature back in the Atlas stronghold…” Troy muttered, placing the capsule back on its tray.

“If you and Tyreen are satisfied with the results, can you imagine what this will mean to the cult?” Pip said, grinning, “Less body part loss in our army, more bloodshed against our opponents!” Troy chuckled at the medic general’s enthusiasm. 

“You’re just excited to see action back in the infirmary,” Troy said, “Or finally meeting someone who understands what the fuck you are talking about.”

“Oh, Father Troy, it is refreshing to speak to the living than with the dead,” Pip joked, “But I do admit the plaything is most interesting, especially now with this new toy.” He finished sorting the liquid, a total of 12 capsules distributed.

“Well, at least you tolerate her, unlike the others,” Troy said, taking out his EchoNet device.

“You mean Donovan and Basil? Basil, I understand, the arena and all. As for Donovan, pray tell, I thought the right-hand man was the most trusted figure,” Pip said, a tiny smirk on his lips. He wanted to play along with your game.

“….”

Pip placed the capsules into a freezer, “Don’t tell me the trust is gone.” He resumed a neutral expression, turning around to look at Troy. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” Troy stared at Pip, his hand shaking while holding the EchoNet device. 

“It is what it is, Father Troy,” Pip said, “Some people forget that things stay alive on the net.” He pushed his glasses up. 

“Have you… Have you checked the authenticity of this?” Troy threw his EchoNet device on the floor, rubbing his face.

“Basil checked it, he didn’t believe it either. Just now, Moksha confirmed it, I’m assuming she sent you the message,” Pip handed over his own device to Troy, “I got this when I walked out of the meeting with the plaything.” Troy pushed it away.

“I don’t want to look at it,” Troy hissed out, “I… “ He punched one of the shelves, glass shattering everywhere. Pip sighed, looking at the mess. Troy pulled at his hair, growling.

“DAMNIT! DAMNIT ALL! Does Tyreen know?!” Troy yelled, “Did you tell her already?!”

“If you need a volunteer, I’m up for it,” Pip said, “I doubt Basil and Moksha want to be near her if they spill the news.”

“No, I’ll tell her,” Troy snarled, clenching his fists, “Take the test subjects to the Harvest grounds, summon everyone else.”

“Understood, Father Troy,” Pip bowed, “Do you mind if I make some minor arrangements for the test?”

He was eager to see the spectacle prepared.

“Do what you need to do,” Troy hissed out, storming off.

Pip pushed up his glasses, snickering, “I did warn him that Father Troy was bound to explode…”

\-----0000000-----

The generals awaited the Calypsos at the Harvest grounds, eyeing the cages set out with prisoners from the Naughty House. The prisoners clamored for mercy, shouting praises to the generals and the Twin Gods. Pip chuckled, lighting up a cigarette. The warehouse mechanics, including Perseus, were cleaning up the grounds from the leftover equipment, packing up and awaiting orders on the side. Perseus quietly observed the generals, then focused on Donovan, whispering something to the other mechanics who nodded. 

“Am I the only one excited to see how that serum works?” Pip asked, addressing the others.

“Beats me… as long as they don’t go insane and mutate like that asshole from the Atlas stronghold,” Basil said, sneering at the prisoners.

“I don’t think we should worry about that,” Moksha tilted her head, pondering, “If the serum is not concentrated, I suppose test subjects won’t lose their minds.”

“We have the gun power to put them down if need be,” Donovan said, holding up his shotgun, “Not taking any chances, especially if this is dealing with the damn plaything.”

“Aye, aye, we hear ye, Prophet Donovan,” Pip said, raising his cigarette up, “Oh, the Twin Gods are here.” All generals turned to look at the twins entering the grounds, followed by a small group of priests, Jackal among them. 

“Priests, what for?” Basil was baffled, the others and him approaching the twins. 

“Father Troy, my God Queen, everything has been set up as you have requested,” Moksha informed, bowing, “The outer areas have been cleared as well as the old run-down buildings too. Basil and I have calibrated and adjusted the cameras for the tests.” Perseus approached her, pushing over a console that was connected to several wires feeding into the buildings. 

The twins stared at their generals, nodding in confirmation. Their quiet demeanor was unnerving, their expressions vacant. The priests filed over to Pip, who handed over the metal cylinders, scalpels and gloves. 

“As requested by the God Queen, several of you that have committed grave offenses against us will be given a second chance!” Troy announced, Jackal and the other priests descended down to the area, “You 12 have been chosen! Accept this as a blessing from me, Father Troy!”

Jackal and the priests approached the caged prisoners, ordering them to turn around to expose the back of their necks. Several pleaded, others objected but all relented. With a careful incision, the metal cylinders were carefully placed under the skin, popping the capsule stored within it.

“You will feel a slight sting, but it will go away!” Pip yelled, “Don’t poke at it!” The priests made quick work on stitching up the incisions, retreating from the cages and going up to the viewing platforms. They all stood by the warehouse mechanics who were watching.

Tyreen sat on her throne, crossing her legs, Moksha handing her several controls and showing her the inside view of the buildings. 

“Do you believe in second chances, Donovan?” Troy asked, not breaking eye contact from the prisoners who were frightened, some scratching the back of their necks. Donovan narrowed his eyes, perplexed by the odd question.

“Second chances?” Donovan inquired, “You mean for these prisoners? I don’t recall you being that merciful.” Troy always punished the prisoners alongside Donovan, laughing at the attempts for those begging for forgiveness, shouted by the unfortunate souls.

“If you see it that way, yes,” Troy said, “Same goes to you. I didn’t take you as someone willing to give others chances… especially playthings.” The tall Calypso turned to look at Donovan, his jaws clicking. Donovan noticed Troy gripping the hilt of his blade tight.

“What’s this about? I had nothing to do with the demise of Helen,” Donovan eyed the prisoners. The priests were staring at him.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about, Prophet Donovan,” Troy swung his blade down, “Thinking you are smarter than me? Smarter than the God Queen?”

Donovan growled, steadying his shotgun, “What are you on about!?”

“Consorting with the enemy.”

The general turned around, meeting Tyreen’s cold glare from her throne. Pip, Moksha, and Basil were staring at him as well, anger evident in their eyes.

“HEATHEN!” the priests shouted, “HEATHEN!” They all pointed their daggers at Donovan. Jackal remained on his spot, not joining his fellow priests. He only stared, face unreadable.

“What-“

Perseus pressed a button from a remote he had on his side. The displays that were in front of Tyreen showed the messages between Donovan and Master, still images of Donovan harassing a priest and talking to a group of cultists. For all to see, the surveillance feed of you leaving the cathedral and heading to the Calypsos’ living quarters playing side by side with the original, unedited feed where you left to your hut, ambushed by the same cultists Donovan had spoken to.  


_.:Unknown User: How about helping a friend out? You scratch my back and I scratch yours. You really don’t like my Queen being near the Calypsos. :3c I want her back. Seems like a fair trade, right?_

_  
.:D.Van.: As if I would._

_.:Unknown User: I don’t think Father Troy would like to know you were the one who snitched on his lady friend. :3_

_.:D.Van.: What do you propose, then?_

_.:Unknown User: That’s what I want to hear. I’ll help you out. When the perfect opportunity shows up, you find a way to free her from the stronghold. :3_

_.:D.Van.: Huh, you want me to do your dirty work. Asshole._

_.:Unknown User: D: I mean, do you want me to storm the place. :3 I can do that, but I won’t._

_.:Unknown User: :v I doubt you want another surprise like the one in the underground freezer. What can I do to show a sign of good faith? :3c_

_.:D.Van.: Now that’s what I want to hear._

_~0~_

_.:Unknown User: :3 So, how were my editing skills?_

_.:D.Van: I’m impressed. Now, do your part._

_.:Unknown User: :D Sure thing! :3c Can’t wait to see what you have in store for me._

_~0~_

_.:Unknown User: :D Deed is done. Father Troy is scary when angry!_

_.:D.Van: I’ll take it from here. I’m sure you’ll be watching._

_.:Unknown User: :3c Remember our deal._

_.:Unknown User: Well played. I won’t snitch on you. I’m going to see how this plays out. If anything happens to her. Well… you and the Calypsos will find out eventually. (skull emoji)_

  


Donovan saw red. Troy was seething, furious next to him. Tyreen stood up from her throne, adjusting her jacket, her Siren tattoos flaring and glowing bright, pissed off.

“You…. Its your fault…. Its your fucking fault he made a mockery out of us….” Troy hissed out. For the push for Helen’s demise. For the push on Tyreen punishing you. For the retaliation of PK attacking their outposts. 

“Donovan, you are hereby stripped from your rank as Prophet… and shall be known as a heathen,” Tyreen said, “Your punishment for conspiring with the enemy is death…” She snapped her fingers, the priests flanking her, hissing at Donovan. 

Jackal remained on the side.

“You can’t do this!” Donovan shouted, looking at the other generals. Pip, Basil, and Moksha took out their guns, the other mechanics and Perseus doing the same. 

Donovan faced Troy, hearing his breathing getting heavy.

“Oh Donovan, it’s a pity. For once, I will be merciful…. I’ll give you a second chance…” Troy said, inching close to the disgraced general, “I’ll give you thirty seconds as a head start…” He popped his jaws open, roaring. 

Tyreen snapped her fingers again, pointing at Donovan. The priests rushed forward, daggers out towards Donovan. He shot them with his shotgun, blasting several of them out of the way.

“Who’s to say I wasn’t the only one?!” Donovan shouted, glaring at the other generals who went over to protect Tyreen. 

“Do not string us with you, heathen!” Basil hissed, “After everything we’ve been through?!” 

“Our loyalty is with the Calypsos!” Moksha snarled out, “Not some corporate scum!”

“End of the line for you,” Pip said, laughing, “Don’t make it too difficult on yourself, just drop dead.”

“You fucking assholes!” Donovan barely dodged a swipe from Troy’s blade, rolling over on the ground. The remaining priests jumped in, doing stab motions. Donovan pushed them off, dodging. The warehouse mechanics joined in as well, shooting at Donovan. 

“KILL THE HEATHEN!”

“I will not die by your fucking hands!” Donovan yelled, shooting the mechanics who managed to maneuver out of the way. Troy managed to land a punch on him, pushing Donovan to the edge of the platform above the grounds with the caged prisoners. The ex-general held his face, snarling. 

“Watch your step.”

“What?!” Donovan turned around, meeting Perseus’s fist, decking him into the area below. Perseus snickered, looking down at the ex-general.

Donovan howled in pain, stumbling while getting up. His prescence frightened the caged prisoners as Troy descended down, growling, dragging his blade. Tyreen pushed a button by the display, opening the cages. The prisoners stepped out, confused and afraid. 

“Thirty seconds are up, Donovan…” Troy teased, raising his blade up. He limped forward, cackling. Donovan kept a steady stance, hissing.

“How… Just fucking how…!” he hissed out, looking around for an escape. It was suicide to fight out in the open with Troy. Donovan’s eyes landed on the nearby building, quickly sprinting, dodging another swing from Troy. Moksha and Basil turned on the cameras, Tyreen staring at Donovan disappearing into the building.  
The ex-general, upon entering the old warehouse, shot several of the cameras, delving into the tight spaces filled with debris.

“To those present, if you are able to bring down the Great Heathen Donovan, you shall be set free,” Troy announced through the intercom, “And you shall receive divine blessing from the God Queen.” Donovan cursed under his breath. A flurry of footsteps barged in, desperate calls for salvations muttered under breathes.

“We need to find him!” “We shall be set free!” “Praise the Calypsos for a second chance!” “Heathen, we must kill the heathen!” “GET HIM!”

The prisoners dispersed further into the building, searching for him. 

“Fucking shit…!” Donovan muttered, hiding behind a pile of cinderblocks. He had ceased communication with Master after the Let’s Flay with Helen. Going through his thoughts, he was tried to recall any instance he might have slipped up. 

Jackal.

Jackal had known about the footage but he had bet on the drunk priest’s credibility to be flawed due to his daughter’s death. He was aware of the history of Troy with the priest, but even he knew Troy wouldn’t give Jackal the benefit of doubt. 

“Donovan…” 

The excommunicated general froze, hearing Troy’s voice echo through the building.

“Donovan….!”

Donovan gripped tight his shotgun, hearing the scrapping of Troy’s sword against the concrete floor. The audible clicking noise of the fanged jaws amped up his anxiety.

“Its dangerous to be inside here, Donovan. A lot of people want to hurt you…. At any moment, the building may collapse as well…”

Heavy footsteps reached the area near him.

“Donovan….”

Donovan kept quiet, watching Troy pass by. The Calypso was hunched over, jaws wide open, a crazed looked plastered on his face, breathing heavily.

“DONOVAN!” Troy roared out.

No answer.

The ousted general was familiar with Troy’s behavior, a slight edge in surviving this. Laughing was heard not too far from their location. 

“Oh, looks like we have company…” Troy garbled out, swinging his blade up. Donovan dared to peek out, seeing several of the prisoners giggling as they approached Troy.

“I’d run if I were you.”

Donovan turned around, seeing Tyreen smiling down at him from one of the wooden beams. She jumped down, unclenching and clenching her Siren fist. Her smile turned to a thin line.

“Run.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement, blasting past Troy and shoving aside the crazed prisoners who tried to lunge at him. From a quick glimpse, he noticed the prisoners’ skins had turned into a light hue of purple, dark marks appearing under their eyes. Their attention drifted to Donovan, chasing after him through the twisted maze of debris in the decrepit warehouse. 

“We must kill the heathen!” they shouted, almost screeching, “Salvation!”

“Damnit!” Donovan yelled, turning around and shooting, blasting several prisoners away. Those injured quickly recovered, catching up with the group to continue the pursuit on the disgraced general.

“Watch your head, Donovan,” Tyreen’s voice rang out.

“Keep your head in the game, Donovan,” Troy’s voice followed, distorted. 

Looking up, Donovan managed to dodge a prisoner who tried to grab him from one of the scaffolds, the remaining prisoners jumping from one platform to another. Desperate, Donovan fled into the basement area of the warehouse, venturing further and further down in attempt to lose the Calypsos and the prisoners. Soon, the torn walls were gone, only a landscape of pipes, vents, and metal floor grids welcomed him. 

Every step he took echoed down the hallway of pipes, alerting his chasers.

“HEATHEN!”

Donovan was reaching his limit.

“HEATHEN!”

Donovan kept running, adrenaline pumping through his body.

“Its dangerous to run around here, Donovan,” Tyreen said with a faint hint of concern, her laughter bouncing off the pipes.

“Yeah, who knows how weak the structure is down here,” Troy said, mischief present in his voice, the banging of metal traveling down the pipes. 

Donovan growled, his footsteps loud and echoing through the narrow passageway of pipes, hissing vents and hanging chains. He ran further in, parts of the floor collapsing behind him with each step. 

“Donovan…” the twins said in unison, “Its dangerous in here.”

He paused, looking for a way up, freezing when he saw a priest staring down at him from the broken vent pipe, dagger in hand.

“You fucking bastard!” Donovan yelled, aiming to shoot at the priest. The twin’s footsteps grew closer and closer alongside the prisoners. Before Donovan could shoot, a pair of hands grabbed his feet through the broken metal floor grid, pulling him down. He screamed, caught off guard as he fell through the opening. He grabbed on to a chain nearby, hanging and barely missing a layer of spikes underneath him.

“Damnit!” Donovan cursed out, looking up to see the priest gone, “You fucking bastard! Come back here!” He quickly surveyed the area, picking up on someone’s presence. The other hanging chains moved about, then everything stood still.

Donovan’s breathing felt loud on his ears, his blood rushing to his head as the Calypsos walked into view below, smiling at him. Both of them were covered in blood.

“We did tell you it was dangerous in here,” Tyreen said, her Siren hand twitching. 

“You were never a good listener,” Troy said, popping his jaws back in place, spitting out flesh.

A surveyor descended through the opening above, heading towards the Calypsos. 

“Y-You are showing this to everyone?!” Donovan shouted, struggling with grip on the chain, “You are playing into that bastard’s hands!”

“Oh, this isn’t being broadcasted,” Tyreen giggled, licking her lips, “Remember that we are testing the serum, and you proved to be a good toy for the test subjects.”

“Unfortunately, they got bored chasing you, so they went after me and Ty,” Troy laughed, slapping his knee, “But I have to say, I’m fucking impressed! Roughed me up a little!”

“How about you come down? You can’t stay hanging up there forever,” Tyreen said, laughing. 

“Yeah, come down Donovan! Let’s have a good chat!” Troy said, grinning, his sharp, bloody teeth showing, “ABOUT HOW YOU CONSPIRED WITH THAT MASTER ASSHOLE BEHIND OUR BACKS!?”

Donovan knew better than to fight the Calypsos. They were pissed off. After years of being a bandit lord in the wastes and at the service of the Twin Gods, he was now reduced to fresh meat. 

A chew toy. Was this what Helen and you felt like? At the mercy of the twins?

The Calypsos were prolonging this for their own entertainment.

They could have easily killed him if they wanted to.

“….You grew weak….” Donovan said, “She made you weak…” A dead man speaking.

“Come again?” Troy said, putting his hand by his ear, feigning hard of hearing, “SPEAK LOUDER!”

“She made you weak! Ever since that plaything arrived, the cult that we had worked hard to build is now the laughingstock!” Donovan shouted, growling, “You two are oblivious to the danger she poses!”

“Are you hearing him correctly, Ty?” Troy said, turning to look at Tyreen.

“I believe he called us weak,” Tyreen replied, “And that my plaything is dangerous and we are blind to it?”

“Ah, okay, then I heard right,” Troy said, now looking at Donovan, “Oblivious, we are not, that’s where you are wrong.”

“You blind bastards-!” Donovan gagged, grabbing on to a chain wrapped around his neck. He lost his grip on other chain keeping him above the Calypsos, struggling to break free. Gasping for air, he managed to look up, eyes widen.

By another broken pipe, you stared down at him, expressionless as you tugged at the chain coiled around your arm. You were wearing a priest’s robe.

“N-No…!” Donovan coughed out. You had been listening to his accusations, the outcast general realizing you were the one who pulled him down to this area.

“See? You are the oblivious one here, forgetting to always keep your guard up,” Troy shrugged, watching Donovan flail up in the air.

“We did tell him it was dangerous in here,” Tyreen said, shaking her head in disappointment.

Troy laughed, pointing at you, but addressing Donovan, “That’s the joke, Don. She’s the danger factor in here!” You pulled hard on the chains, causing Donovan to gag more. His air supply was running out, fear creeping on him, the undeniable harsh reality sinking in.

He was going to die by your hands.

Not by the Calypsos.

But by a plaything. What he considered scum. What Helen had been reduced to before getting killed by his own hand.

“How unfortunate,” Tyreen said, “Prophet Donovan slipped and fell to his death.”

“Nah, I think it’s more of ‘Prisoner goes insane, takes down Prophet Donovan,’” Troy offered, tapping a finger on his chin, “’Click here for more!’” He laughed, ignoring Tyreen’s look of disbelief.

Donovan gasped for air, slipping in and out of consciousness as the Calypsos kept taunting him. This was their playground, the Harvest grounds. A sacred area for the Calypsos to display their raw power for their followers. To remind them who was in charge.

However, this show was private, for their eyes only. 

He could feel himself slowly drifting away, glancing from the Calypsos to you. You had yet to say anything, keeping quiet, only staring and pulling at the chains. Then, you put on Helen’s psycho mask, letting go of the chains. Donovan landed on the ground with a loud thud, wheezing.

“I believe I heard something crack,” Troy mused, “Maybe a rib?”

“Perhaps…” Tyreen said, seeing you jump down and approach Donovan. The man was breathing hard, face shades of blue and red, neck deeply bruised from the chains. 

You were familiar with the feeling, Tyreen’s kicks and slaps leaving an assortment of deep marks on your body, a stomp cracking a rib, giving you immense pain to even breath. You knelt down, tilting your head, the mask covering up your devilish smile. Donovan mustered enough strength to glare at you.

“You… bitch….” He wheezed out, panting, “You…. Fucking…. Bitch….” You remained in your spot, not responding. However, you took out the Helenite gun from your holster, loading the gun with a single bullet. The Calypsos were surprised, getting a glimpse of the gun’s name and description:

‘Green with Envy.’

“Where did you….?” Troy whispered, hearing the click of the bullet chamber closing. You aimed it at your own head, cocking the gun…

“W-Wait! What are you doing?!” Tyreen shouted, rushing over, hearing the trigger go off. 

CLICK.

“NO!” Troy yelled, frozen in place. Tyreen had covered her mouth, gasping. Donovan stared at you, eyes wide. 

The chamber was empty. You cocked the gun again, ignoring the twin’s outbursts, aiming the gun at Donovan’s face, pressing the trigger.

CLICK.

Nothing. 

“H-Hey! Have you gone mad?!” Troy yelled, getting angry. Donovan struggled to get up, crawling away. He refused to be part of your macabre performance.

You aimed back at your head, pulling the trigger.

CLICK.

“A-Alright, this isn’t funny anymore!” Tyreen shouted, attempting to grab your arm, “Stop it!” You shoved Tyreen away, aiming the gun again at Donovan. 

Troy caught her, hissing at you, “ENOUGH!”

CLICK.

Donovan grunted, wheezing and in deep pain. The Calypsos were trying to stop you, their attempts feeble. 

Weak.

That’s what Donovan had warned them about. They had grown weak with you around.

“STOP IT!” Donovan heard Tyreen shout, the clicking of an empty bullet chamber sounding again. No head of yours blown off.

CLICK.

“….Jackal?” Troy said from behind Donovan. The man looked up, Jackal staring down at him with a blank expression.

“The Helenite gun contains six bullet chambers… no elemental damage, no recoil, no eyesight, a high percentage in critical hits, extremely lightweight, short barrel…. but deadly hit damage…” Jackal said, tranquil, “Especially at point-blank range…” He extended his arm out, receiving the it from you.

Jackal aimed at Donovan’s forehead, cocking the gun, “When you get to hell, tell Helen I said ‘hello.’” 

“Wai-“ Donovan tried to grab the priest’s robe.

**BANG!**

The shot rang out in the old, desolate pipe room, a pool of blood emerging from underneath Donovan’s head. The back part of his head was obliterated, the exit gunshot wound showing brain matter and a broken skull. Jackal held the gun in position, blood splattered on his crimson robe, darker than the material. Some of the blood landed on Helen’s mask on your face.

“Good riddance,” he muttered, handing you the gun. You reloaded the gun, all six bullet chambers full, snapping the main chamber back in place.

“Jackal,” Troy said.

“Yes, Father Troy?” the priest asked, voice void of emotion, staring down at Donovan’s body. No one was holding the dead man’s body.

“….”

No one was crying over the dead man’s body.

“….I’m sorry.” 

No one was out seeking revenge for the dead man.

“Too bad the one that needs it is dead,” Jackal said, now looking at Troy, expression unchanged. The tall Calypso stared back. This was the first time the priest answered back to a Twin God. Tyreen glanced at you and at Helenite gun in your hand, blood specks on the gun barrel.

/ I’m the wrong person for that statement, too bad the one that needs it is dead./ You had told Troy the same thing.

“If you will excuse me, I need to escort the God Queen’s plaything out of the Harvest grounds,” Jackal said, turning to leave, “Come along.” You placed the gun away in the holster, following the priest out of the lower level room, no words uttered during the tumultuous exchange.

No hissing. No growling. 

This wasn’t your moment.

It was Jackal’s. The priest who had his hands tied, given the opportunity to deliver revenge for his daughter. Divine punishment granted by a plaything. 

Troy approached Donovan’s body, “I wonder what would have happened if she got to you instead of Jackal…” The mask had prevented the twins from seeing your sadistic expression, gleeful at seeing the priest killing Donovan.

“We saw it at the arena,” Tyreen said, “He’d be missing his lower jaw….”

\------00000000-------

“And so the curtain falls on the chapter of The Ripper, formerly known as Prophet Donovan,” Pip announced, taking a drag out of cigarette, blowing out circles of smoke, “Should have kept your mouth shut and look pretty, Don.” He laughed as he pushed the headless body of Donovan into the freezer in the morgue.

“Watch your head!” Pip cackled, “Fresh meat coming through!”

On the other tables, inside the morgue, were the remains of the prisoners, some of them completely covered in crystals, courtesy of Tyreen. Others were ripped part, the handiwork of Troy.

“I say today was a good day for science,” the medic general mused, “A good fucking day…!”

\-----00000000-------

Troy had a frown on his face, shaking his head, “Brother and sisters, Children of the Vault, it saddens me to say that we lost one of our own…. Prophet Donovan.” The cultists gathered in the cathedral gasped, whispering amongst each other. The right-hand man of Father Troy dead? Basil and Moksha stood by on the side, watching Troy speak. Tyreen was sitting on her throne, looking down at their flock. Those that were present at the Harvest grounds were sworn to secrecy. 

“In our great quest for the Vaults, trouble always follows us,” Troy continued, “His time arrived to ascend into the Red Vault, reach a new heaven!”

“NEW HEAVEN!” the cultists shouted, “A NEW HEAVEN!” Those present took out their guns, lifting their arms up in the air.

No one would question the demise of Donovan. The Heathen.

“I can assure you, a new beginning is upon us!” Troy announced, raising his arms up, “ARE YOU READY TO GIVE YOUR FLESH!?”

“WE ARE! WE ARE READY!”

Tyreen smirked, her Siren tattoos glowing bright, the residual energy of the serum still present in the air around her. The lifeforce she took from the prisoners was giving her a small high. 

“FOR THE CALYPSOS!” the cultists shouted.

Troy laughed, the serum-contaminated flesh he consumed driving him delirious up at the altar. He could still smell the blood from the Harvest grounds, putting him on edge. 

He could still smell Donovan’s disgusting blood.

“FOR THE TWIN GODS!” Basil shouted, lifting his arm up.

“FOR THE GLORY OF THE CALYPSOS!” Moksha followed.

“FOR THE TWIN GODS!” the cultists chanted, several gunshots sounding off. Troy continued talking about the future raids and plans for the cult, the crowd eating it up.

You were observing from the second floor, noticing the small changes on the Calypsos under the effect of the serum. This was only minimum exposure. The little monster was excited to see them under the full effect. 

The twins hadn’t noticed your presence, allowing you to slip away from the sermon. 

“Maybe Donovan was right,” you muttered, “I’m a dangerous person.” A cat-like grin adorned your lips.

All was well in the humble home of the Twin Gods. 

\-----0000000-----

Priests swept the steps of the cathedral’s own courtyard area, going tense when they saw you walk into the area. 

You weren’t welcomed in that part.

“What do you think you are doing here…” one of the priest hissed out, “Get out before-“ You shoved past him, making your way towards the back part of the courtyard. The priests were about to yell at you when they noticed a trail of blood. They noticed a black bag in your hands, the origin of the blood.

They scurried off, following you. From a distance, they saw Jackal and Perseus, waiting for you.

They were at Helen’s grave.

Several other priests caught sight of you, immediately converging, but keeping their distance, somewhat curious, somewhat angry. 

“You’re late,” Perseus said, hands in his pocket, “Not going to ask how you managed to get your hands on it...” Jackal was holding the Helenite gun, glancing at the nosy priests, some of them hiding at the sight of the gun.

“Just some info exchange, that is all,” you said, opening the black bag, sticking your hand in it, pulling out a severed head, flesh stripped from the face. The other priests gasped, astonished and horrified. 

“Stake is ready,” Perseus pointed at a wooden stake behind Helen’s gravestone. Grinning, you impaled the head on it, pushing hard, blood oozing out. Stepping back, you admired your handiwork.

“I feel like its missing something…” you said, tapping your chin, blood smearing on your face. Perseus chuckled, reaching into his own leather bag, pulling out a flower crown made from the purple hyacinths that Tyreen had given you. He approached the grave, placing it neatly on severed head.

“What about now?” Perseus asked.

“Perfect,” Jackal said, “Definitely suits him.”

Donovan.

You smiled, kneeling down to pat the soil on the grave, “Sorry for the trouble, Helen. I just have shitty luck…I hope this is enough for forgiveness…” You got up, Perseus patting the priest on the shoulder as Jackal sighed, tears falling from his face. 

“What next?” Perseus asked. You eyed the cathedral, the ruckus ongoing inside with the Calypsos.

“Take down the Rat King,” you whispered, touching the triangle scar on the back of your head.

Then Cetus.

Perhaps along the way, the Calypsos as well.

You weren’t sure about the last part. You were part of their dysfunctional family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who will fall into madness? The reader or the Calypsos? :D Ey, little family arc is somewhat over. Another one bites the dust, is someone else going to be on the chopping block? Who knows! 
> 
> Gosh darn, I rewrote this freaking chapter so many times… this was the final version I was satisfied with. 31K words and I was debating on removing certain parts. 
> 
> Comments and kudos feed this tiny gremlin! :D


	7. Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Calypsos learn more about your past with Master.
> 
> Everything is falling apart.
> 
> You are falling apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mentions of/implied rape, implied necrophilia, extreme violence/torture, blood, character death, suicide
> 
> As always, not beta-read. My cat played around with the text.
> 
> Comments and kudos feed this tiny gremlin! :D

\-----00000000------

Screams followed by slaps, echoed in the dimly lit hall leading to a chamber with crimson metal doors. Shouting, items thrown around are heard, the doors bursting wide open as you ran out, limping. Your blood-soaked dress has gotten deeper in color, fresh stains decorating the top part of it.

“GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKING BITCH!” 

You scream, begging your legs not to give out. Adrenaline kicked in, allowing you to speed up and fully run. Alarms go off, flooding the hallways with red. 

Red. Red. Red.

“Cetus, Cetus, Cetus!” you scream out, pleading, hoping. 

But he’s not there.

He wasn’t there to protect you.

/Send her away, she needs to be reeducated./ Tears stung your eyes, your memory spotty about the events prior to being brought back to Promethea. 

“YOU WHORE! YOU’RE NOT ESCAPING ME!” a raspy voice called out, the one that was near your ear, whispering lewd comments, the owner’s hands touching your skin, bruising, disgusting you. Biting back a scream, you kept running, hearing a horde of footsteps behind you.

“There she is!” an armed bandit shouted, pointing at you. The little monster kicked into gear, cracking a smile, immediately lunging at the bandit, tearing into their face and ripping their jaw off. You appropriated the bandit’s gun, heading to the main corridors of the bandit stronghold. 

“ATTENTION, THE QUEEN HAS ESCAPED. I REPEAT, THE QUEEN HAS ESCAPED. CAPTURE ALIVE!” the intercom went off, blaring louder the alarms.

“Fuck, fuck!” you hissed out, shooting at several bandits that crossed your path. You grabbed ammo from the corpses, ready to use them. While rummaging through a dead bandit’s belongings, you picked up a radio, adjusting the frequency to hear the ongoing alerts in the stronghold. One of the unfortunate bandits was female, closely matching your physique, giving you an idea. 

You dragged the body to the side, in a locker room, quickly stripping the female bandit from its gear and removing your own clothes, swapping items. Grateful for the uniform having a mask and helmet, you covered your face, hearing the radio go off.

“YOU FUCKERS BETTER FIND THAT BITCH! SHE HASN’T LEFT THE EAST SIDE OF THE COMPOUND!”

The Rat King shouted more commands, the hallway near you filled with activity. You panicked, frantically searching around for an exit. Checking one of the windows, the sight of the river that fed into the marshlands looked tempting to jump into, but with your gear, you’d sink. Eyeing the body with your clothes, another idea popped into your mind. 

Making quick work on the window, you picked up the body, steady on the windowsill and threw the female bandit’s body, watching her land in the water. You shot at the water, alerting the other bandits into the locker room area. 

“What are you shooting at?! We are to bring her alive!” one of the bandits shouted, peeking outside the window, “HOLY SHIT!”

“She jumped out!” you said, pushing your voice to sound deeper, “She shot the others!” 

“FUCK! DAMNIT! EVERYONE, OUT INTO THE TECHNICALS! WE CAN’T LOSE HER!” the bandit shouted, pushing the others aside, you following behind. You couldn’t believe you were able to fool the bandits with the decoy body. As you followed the Rat bandits into the loading docks, you almost screamed at the sight of the Rat King who was completely livid. 

The bandit lord was bleeding profusely from the side of his face, a large gash present from the back of his head to the cheek, courtesy of you. Flesh was hanging underneath his chin, the scruffy beard drenched in blood.

“BRING THAT BITCH BACK! BRING HER BACK! I’M GOING TO BREAK HER FUCKING LEGS FOR WHAT SHE DID TO ME!” the Rat King shouted, punching into one of the technicals. The Rat bandits all boarded several vehicles, your group jumping on the front seats while you sat in the back. The mask helped covered your face of desperation and fear as the bandits rode out into the marshlands, making their way to the riverbed. 

The radio chatter by the Rat King included more shouting and threats, your body running cold as you kept hearing what he was planning to do besides break your legs. Gripping tight the gun, you waited for an opening, the bandit technicals separating to cover more ground. Your group ventured to the deeper part of the marshlands, treading on the harsh terrain. 

Making sure there was no one around, you shot the co-pilot on the head, causing the driver to brake, sending you into the middle of the seats.

“W-What are you doing?!” the bandit shouted, trying to wrestle your gun away from you. With a swift kick to the bandit’s chest, you shot the driver on the face, double-tapping. They slumped forward, pressing on the gas, sending the vehicle into a bog. You yelped, scrambling to get off as the vehicle sunk further into the water. 

Wading out of the water, you turned around to see the vehicle disappear further into the bog. Your body wouldn’t stop shaking, the adrenaline bursts driving your heart rate off the charts. 

You had escaped the Rat King alive. 

\----000000-----

The long journey through the marshlands took a toll on your body, the adrenaline wearing off, causing you to slump over on a decaying, rotten tree. You gasped for air, coughing and crying. Your entire body ached as it shook from your sobs.

“Oh god… Oh god…” you whispered, hugging yourself, yelping when you pressed on the bruises left behind by the Rat King who almost had his way with your body. A rustle alerted you of danger nearby, your senses heightened. Turning around, you saw a group of skags mingling about the area, sniffing and prodding at the wet ground. You had no energy to deal with them should they decide to make you your next meal.

One of the skags took notice of your presence, growling. The rest of its pack tuned in, getting near. 

“Damnit…” you muttered, grabbing your gun. You paused while attempted to aim. 

No, I can’t, you thought, my shots will get heard by the Rat bandits. Shaking your head, you took off running, not wanting to stay around to deal with the wildlife. The skags did not give chase, only venturing to your old spot. 

You kept going, vaulting over downed trees, quickly wadding into the murky waters, Lady Luck blessing you during the journey. Before you knew it, you had reached the edges of the wastes, a familiar setting. With the little energy you had left, you fell forward, partly passing out. 

“No… I need…” you whispered, clawing at the barren ground, “Up… please…” Your body was fighting your mind. 

GET UP!

UP!

The little monster was beating up your mind.

UP! UP! UP!

Gritting your teeth, you managed to stand up, albeit wobbling, but making progress. You discarded the Rat bandit sigil from the uniform, the symbol swelling your anger. As you kept walking, you noticed a small camp in the distance, bustling with life.

“I won’t be able to take them out…” you said, checking your pockets for any kind of weapon aside from your lone gun, your chains were long gone. Taking a chance, you picked up pace, leaning against the old fencing of the camp. You hid behind a shipping crate, quietly observing the local bandits go about their business. 

A group of marauders were mingling about a bandit technical and a bruiser was polishing a shotgun, humming a little tune. Another bandit walked out of a tent, a bottle of alcohol in hand. Fortunately, they hadn’t picked up on your presence. You moved from the shipping crate, kneeling down to crawl over to an adjacent tent, looking at the drying clothes flying with the breeze on a clothesline. 

“Perfect…” you whispered, glancing around before stepping out, quickly walking over to appropriate the garments. Your current gear was soaking wet and the stench had grown unbearable. Pulling at the clothes, you heard a gun cocked, firmly pressed on the back of your head.

“Whad’ya think, you are doin’?” a marauder asked, pushing the barrel of the gun further on your head. Cautious, you raised your arms, slowly turning around. The marauder grew surprised.

“Well, well, look at what the skag dragged in…” the marauder whistled, signaling his bandit crew of an intruder. You hissed, seeing the other bandits filed over, audible gasps reaching your ears.

“Oh ho.. we got lucky guys!” a bruised shouted, laughing. The others joined in, the marauder gesturing for you to move towards the group, “We don’t usually get pretty faces around these parts!” You were seething, hands twitching.

The little monster did not like these bandits.

The bruiser from earlier approached, standing tall over you, “How about it, care to ride a stallion- GAH!” You punched him in the stomach, kneeing him on the face as you grabbed the bruiser’s lower jack, tugging and ripping it off his face. 

After a split second, the bandits registered what had happened, screaming in horror. The bruiser landed on the floor, screeching bloody murder, blood squirting everywhere. You licked your lips, smirking. 

You loved hearing screams of terror, a sadistic smirk appearing on your lips.

Satisfied, you threw the bruiser’s lower jaw aside, venturing inside one of the tents, eager to take some items.

As you rummaged for clothes, an old boombox set by a table with littered glasses played a rock song, followed by holy organ music. You eyed the electronic device, confused, compiling a set of clothes on a chair.

“FOR ALL THOSE HEATHENS OUT THERE, THE RIGHTEOUS PATH IS WITH THE CHILDREN OF THE VAULT!” someone shouted very enthusiastically, “PRAISE THE GOD QUEEN!”

“PRAISE! PRAISE!” a crowd chanted.

“What the hell…” you said, adjusting your pants, grabbing the utility belt you found by a bed, “Children of the Vault…?” Shaking your head, you walked out of the tent, glaring at the bandits who surrounded their fallen comrade, still spooked by your presence. 

“I’m leaving, you better not follow me…” you threatened, jumping into one of their bandit technicals, “Lest you want to end up like your friend with their jaw ripped off…” You hissed, laughing when the bandits yelped, dashing away from you. Starting the engine, you sped off, turning on the radio.

“The Twin Gods shall lead us to salvation! Give your flesh and take your guns!” 

You broke the radio.

Gods didn’t exist.

\----0000000-----

“Thank you for tuning in for the Holy Broadcast loyal followers. It is, I, Mouthpiece! The voice of the Twin Gods! Spreading the gospel of the God Queen!” Mouthpiece commenced, his voice sounding off through a beat-down radio in a watering hole. Several bandits surrounded the electronic device, listening.

“Today, we have the God Queen herself joining us, Tyreen Calypso!” 

“Hey, hey, how’s it going everyone?” Tyreen asked, her voice adjusted in pitch, “I hope you are delivering some bloody mayhem in my name!” The bandits tuned cheered, clanking beers, some of them had visible CoV marks on their hands.

“Our followers have heard about the demise of Prophet Donovan!”

“Oh yeah, he dead,” Tyreen answered, amused, “Pft, gone. Served us well.”

“Prophet Donovan has ascended and joined the others at the Great Vault! The promised Heaven!”

“Yep,” Tyreen said, “I’m sure he’s having a great time.” She laughed, devolving into a giggle fit.

“God Queen, the recent Let’s Flay has garnered you a new record in views! Our followers loved it! The blood! The pure chaos! Mayhem!”

“Oh ho, hell yeah it did,” Tyreen laughed, “My plaything… is something awesome. Doesn’t disappoint! Fan-fucking-tastic, superb.” She ranted on about you and your killing skills in the arena, praising and ‘blessing’ your performances.

“Hey boss, so it’s true, then?” one of the bandits spoke, addressing a man leaning back on a wooden chair, who was downing an alcoholic drink, “Prophet Donovan bit the dust!”

The man threw the beer bottle against the wall, laughing, “Well, I’ll be damned, The Ripper is gone… Wonder who did him in.” The other bandits approached him, taking out their guns.

“Reckon what we should do, boss?” Another bandit spoke. The man got up, kicking the chair aside and walked out of the bar, fixing his pants and spiked belt, followed by the bandits. Outside, other bandits were tied up, cursing and shouting at the armed cultists. Several were punched in the face to keep quiet.

“Hmmm…. The God Queen did say we should be delivering bloody mayhem,” the man said, combing through his shaggy brown hair, taking out his EchoNet device, Troy’s snake and skull sigil displayed on the screen, “Raze the damn place, eliminate everyone…. For the Calypsos!”

“For the Calypsos!”

The armed cultists whooped, whistled, immediately spraying bullets on the tied-up bandits while others set the nearby buildings on fire. The man pinged out a message, receiving a reply immediately.

“Damn, spill the goods, Father Troy,” the man laughed.

“Get your ass back here, Odie,” Troy said, “A position has opened.”

“Aye, me and the boys are just finishing up,” Odie chuckled, ignoring the screams and hot flames in the background, finishing the call, “Can’t wait to see my little brother after all this time.”

\-------0000000000----------

You stared at your reflection on the pool of water accumulated by a leaking pipe, a deep contrast to the murky waters in the marshlands you had ventured through three years ago.

The same ones the Children of the Vault will have to travel through to get to the Rat King. 

The Calypsos were preparing for the raid, everyone working double time to be ready. You were still off limits from the warehouse, your friend Perseus whisked away for work. Jackal was currently with the other priests, leaving you to your own devices. Today, you decided to stick by cathedral, instead of wandering out to the Harvest grounds as usual, away from others.

Turning on the faucet, you filled a pail with water, dropping a bar of soap into it, walking back to a particular spot in the cathedral’s courtyard.

Dunking a brush into the pail of soapy water, you brushed the surface of Helen’s tombstone, washing and scrubbing off the dirt. With a cloth, you wiped the grime off, drying it off. You checked on the patch of flowers surrounding the area, adjusting the soil with a small, bent metal sheet, satisfied. 

“I think that’s it…” you muttered, standing up. You eyed the impaled head on the stake. The purple hyacinths had taken root, feeding off of from the rotting flesh of what remained of Donovan’s head. Considering the flowers came from Tyreen, you figured she had a hand in the plant’s odd behavior, at times thinking your eyes were playing tricks with the flowers’ tendrils reaching out to you. The surface of the skull had crystallized, the deep violet color creating swirls with the purple hyacinths’ roots. 

You ventured back to the water faucet, washing your hands of dirt. As you washed your face, you felt a presence nearby. Drying your face, you turned around, seeing Troy standing. He was staring at Helen’s grave, then he glanced at you.

“What?” you asked, drying the rest of your face.

“Nothing,” he quickly said, averting his stare to the grave.

You brushed your hair with your fingers, tying it up into a ponytail, “You may claim to be a God, but you won’t be able to get her to rise from the dead.” 

Troy didn’t respond, only lowering his gaze.

“I like the flowers, they look nice,” you commented, throwing the dirty cloth aside. For the past few days, you had been cleaning Helen’s grave, keeping ‘her’ company and making sure no one removed the severed head. 

You wanted it to remain there. 

“Pip told me,” Troy started, still staring at the grave. You placed a hand on your hip, raising an eyebrow, curious.

“About?”

“The surveillance feed.. that you were the one who told him about it, what Donovan did,” Troy said, now looking at you. His expression was a mixture of confusion and anger. 

“What about it?” you asked. 

“So, you are not denying it?” Troy accused, “That you somehow got in contact with this Master asshole?” You shrugged, unfazed by his tone.

“Pip did show you the messages and images, didn’t he? He had Basil check into the timestamps, and whatever it is you have for security settings and all,” you replied, getting annoyed, “Then Moksha checked into it as well. I don’t see what the problem is.”

Troy approached you, irritated, “You. Talked. To. Master.” He couldn’t wrap his head around this concept.

“Like I said, ‘What about it?’” you asked again. 

“What else are you hiding? You better not think you are outsmarting us here…” Troy threatened, glaring at you, “Donovan tried that and now he’s dead…”

You smiled, enjoying his sour mood, “That was the only instance I communicated with him, my end goal was to eliminate Donovan.” Troy didn’t seem convinced. 

“Hard to believe…” he spat out, “Why go to these lengths instead of telling me or Tyreen?”

“You weren’t worthy.” Troy’s audacity was pissing you off.

“What?” Troy asked, caught off guard.

You were looking at Helen’s grave, fists clenched, “You weren’t worthy to be the one to kill Donovan. It was either me or Jackal. I gave it to him.”

“….”

Jackal, the priest that had been good friends with Troy, now a stranger. The man had seen how weak the Calypso had become. The man who had his hands tied due to his devotion to the twins.

Of Helen’s love for Troy. 

Now free from the constrains.

**“I saw myself in her.”**

Troy looked at you, “…..what do you mean?” He knew Helen never truly interacted in a friendly manner with you aside from what he saw in the feed from the cathedral before the arena fight. What had transpired in there to heavily affect you? You only offered vague responses, Helen telling you about his dalliances with other lovers and playthings plus their unfortunate fates.

He could see your eyes watering, your lips quivering. Tears began to fall free on your cheeks, a silent sob escaping. He was startled, a rare sight of you emotional out in public. 

“In love with someone that wasn’t worth it,” you stated, wiping your tears away, “Losing ourselves for them. To pieces of filth.”

Troy felt a cold wave hit him, his throat tightened. 

**You viewed him as trash.**

“I…” Words were stuck for Troy. 

“She lost her life, I barely hung on,” you continued, taking a deep breath, “And now he’s out there, waiting.”

“Wait… you mean…” Troy was hoping it was not true.

You chuckled, grabbing your head, smiling, “Yeah….”

Troy eyed the nearby surveillance camera, eyes wide. Pure rage took over him. 

“I was Master’s lover.”

He was now staring at you, lips in a thin line.

/A King always needs his Queen./

Troy had a feeling about that, but he didn’t want to believe it. The photos that Master had sent him after the Cepheus fight. The ‘I love you’ recording from the red surveyor after the Atlas stronghold raid. Your attachment to Helen. All of it was making sense to him. 

Why you pushed him away.

Why you viewed him in disgust.

He goaded Tyreen about your hatred for her.

Not knowing he was going to be in the receiving end of it eventually.

“Just like her, I was a replacement,” you said, sniffing, “Helen was casted away, just like Master’s ex-wife.” Troy took a deep breath, realizing held it in for a while.

“And just like her, I wasn’t able to save Master’s ex-wife from his wrath,” you kicked the pail of water, the ground quickly absorbing the liquid, “All because I existed, a fucking toy.”

“Its different now…” Troy said, “You’re with us.” A vain attempt to get you to calm down.

You laughed, shaking your head, “As if I had a choice in the matter, I’m the God Queen’s plaything, nothing more, less than a human… waiting to be killed or discarded.” You looked away, smiling. The little monster was slowly taking over again.

“I have no name here, just the title of ‘plaything,’” you stated, growling.

“But I know-“ Troy was cut off.

“Save it,” you said, growling, “I’m sure there’s plenty of cultists around here willing to spread their legs for you.” You walked away, hunched, exhausted from Troy’s presence. 

Troy closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. He had run away once.

Not again.

\------00000000-------

Tyreen adjusted her small, sleeveless jacket, checking herself out in the mirror in her ‘War Room.’ She didn’t want something too flashy, but not ‘basic’ as Troy would say. The God Queen needed to make a statement with her outfit. Nervous, she rolled the end of the sleeves of her black shirt, giving her a more ‘casual’ look. 

She was wearing a simple grey, buttoned vest over a black shirt, washed out jeans, and brown combat boots, less regal than her pop-up collared, military jacket. Tyreen opted for no gloves, leaving her hands free of material. She wanted to appear ‘inviting,’ less threatening. Satisfied with her adjustments, she exited her War Room, making her way to the main hall. 

A priest awaited near the two badass psychos guarding the throne room.

“My God Queen, priest Jackal has arrived with the mechanic,” the priest informed, bowing, “I have escorted them to the drawing room as you have requested.”

“Good, bring us some drinks,” Tyreen ordered, heading to the drawing room. Every step she took caused her heartbeat to go crazy. She hadn’t been this afraid since you were in the infirmary, in a coma-like state. Her hand was shaking when she attempted to open the door, Tyreen pleading with her mind to keep it together. 

Slowly, she turned the doorknob, composing herself. Perseus and Jackal were chatting, abruptly stopping their conversation once she walked into the room. The mechanic and priest stood up from the seats, bowing. 

“My God Queen,” they both said in unison. She gave them a curt nod, approaching them but stopping a few feet away. It was obvious Perseus and Jackal were nervous with her in the room alone.

“Thank you, Jackal, for escorting him here. You may leave,” Tyreen said, waving him off. Jackal remained glued to his spot, shaking his head. 

“No.” Perseus glanced at Jackal, extremely nervous.

“Excuse me?” Tyreen asked, surprised.

“Father Troy has ordered me to keep close to Perseus should he ever be summoned by the you,” Jackal stated, looking at Tyreen, his expression hard to read. The God Queen sighed, not wanting to argue.

“Very well… At least stand by the doorway or something…” Tyreen said, “I don’t want you breathing over him…” Jackal bowed, complying with her request, standing by one of the main doorways, but within close earshot. 

“Please, sit,” Tyreen gestured at the chair opposite of her, the God Queen sitting down. Perseus nodded, taking a seat, gulping. A priest walked into the room through another entrance, carrying a tray with a small kettle pot and two cups, setting them by the table dividing Perseus and Tyreen. They filled the cups, bowed and retreated. 

Perseus remained in his seat, eyeing the drink. Tyreen took a small sip, placing the cup back on its plate.

“Its not poisoned,” Tyreen said. The tea was soothing her nerves.

“Okay…” Perseus muttered, picking up the cup and drinking the liquid. It was sweet, the aroma full and his taste buds enjoyed the flavor. The tea was a nice change to the constant alcohol. He set the tea cup down, tapping on the handle of the cup.

An awkward silence settled in. 

Perseus felt he could break the cup under his tight grip, a million thoughts rushing through his mind. This was the first time that he was summoned by Tyreen without you or Troy around to interfere. Jackal had talked down to Troy in the Harvest grounds by what you told him, but he wasn’t sure about the God Queen. 

Why had she requested his presence?

“I’m not really good with these type of things….” Tyreen said, drumming her fingers on the table, “Here.” She grabbed an item from her belt pouch, placing it on the table and pushing it towards Perseus. The mechanic stared at it.

It was a purple hyacinth. The same flower she had given to you. 

“I’m sorry.”

Perseus looked at her, slightly in shock. The ruthless, Siren Calypso apologizing?

“I’m sorry for trying to hurt you,” Tyreen said, “I just… I’m…” She bit her thumb.

“Jealous,” Perseus said. It wasn’t difficult to notice, the constant glares and mean looks. 

Threatening him with death if he ever got near you.

“…Yes,” Tyreen confirmed, fidgety, “That has cost me… a lot.” Her relationship with her brother and you, the cult getting attacked… and caving in to Master’s taunts.

“….” Perseus didn’t say anything, noticing she wanted to speak more.

“She trusts you a lot, my plaything,” Tyreen said, pulling slightly at her own hair, “You’re her friend, right?”

“Yes,” Perseus responded, eyeing the details of the elegant tea cup, feeling Tyreen staring at him.

“Hmm… Must be nice…” Tyreen said, “Getting support, having a shoulder to cry on, talking about your worries…” Perseus wasn’t sure where she was heading with this. You had made it clear you disliked Tyreen, especially after she tried to injure him. With Donovan dead, you were a bit ‘friendlier’ towards the Calypsos, but the situation with the Rat King, the serum trials, and the Vault had you on edge. You had become more irritable, emotional, and at times hiding in the Harvest grounds to get away from everyone, eventually leading Jackal to do rounds in the area to get you out.

“I want to be her friend,” Tyreen confessed, resting her hands on her lap, “But my actions… have not been constructive towards that….” Perseus looked up at her, this time meeting a soft gaze from Tyreen. 

She was pleading.

“Please…please show me how I can be a friend to her,” Tyreen asked, her voice cracking a bit, “I want her to trust me too…”

Perseus was dumbfounded. The God Queen was asking for his help? A mere bandit mechanic?

“….why should I?”

Tyreen got tense, not expecting that response. Perseus was glaring back at her. She kept her cool.

“I’m not ordering you to do it…” Tyreen said, careful with her words, “I’m asking for your help…”

“So you can hurt her again?” Perseus spat out, standing up from his seat. Jackal eyed the commotion from his position. Tyreen gripped the fabric of her pants, biting her bottom lip. She knew the topic was going to be brought up.

“….I know I have an anger problem…” Tyreen added, taking deep breaths. Her jealousy and anger were a volatile cocktail of trouble. 

Perseus shook his head, disappointed, “You didn’t see her limping in pain for two days straight, hands tied to try to help under death threat, trying to see if she was okay only to find out she was FUCKING DYING ON HER OWN BED!” Tyreen was startled when Perseus’ voice rose. Troy had done plenty of yelling but the mechanic, who rarely spoke around her, was giving her brother a run for his money in the shouting category.

“…..Believe me… a day never goes by that I’m not haunted by that…. I truly regret it,” Tyreen said, nervous, “Her screams still plague my nightmares… I want to change that….”

But you weren’t giving her the chance.

“I… I want to fix things…” Tyreen continued, “I realized the error in my ways… late yes, but I want to fix it…” She was desperately trying not to lose it in her spot. Perseus sat back down, huffing. 

“Why?”

“Why what?” Tyreen asked.

“Why for a plaything?” Perseus inquired, “You and Father Troy always had other playthings… granted they didn’t last long… but why her?” Everyone in the hub were familiar by the ill fates of previous playthings. You were the only one that had lasted this long, in part due to your fighting background with Trinity. 

/Why do you care if she likes you or not?/

“….I have grown to love her,” Tyreen confessed. 

“….” Perseus rubbed his face, irritated, “What a horrible way to show it then.” He remembered your bandaged arm after leaving the meeting with the Calypsos and your indifference to it. It made him furious. 

“…”

**“What’s her name?”**

Tyreen looked at Perseus, stunned. She was confused.

“I…” 

….

She didn’t know. 

She didn’t know your name.

You had been with the CoV for well over a year and half, no name uttered to her.

She never bothered asking.

“Whatever fantasy version you have of her, it’s not going to work out…” Perseus said, “You don’t even know her name but claim to love her…” The mechanic sounded sympathetic but angry at the same time. He was now understanding your frustration with the Calypsos and dealing with their obsession with you. 

Did Tyreen continue seeing you as a toy? She felt her own heart choke her, tightened. 

“I never asked…” Tyreen whispered, mostly to herself, grabbing her head, “How could I be so stupid…?” 

Doll. 

Plaything.

Perseus got up, dusting off his pants, “I can’t help you, my God Queen, until you know her name…” 

“Y-You know her name? Don’t you?” Tyreen asked, swallowing hard. 

Perseus only stared at her, then bowed, exiting the drawing room, meeting Jackal by the door. The priest looked inside, seeing Tyreen hunched over, pulling at her hair. He shook his head, escorting Perseus out.

Tyreen felt more conflicted than ever.

Everything was falling apart.

\------0000000-------

“I think she looks like this,” Tyreen held up a crude drawing of a small child with black hair and red eyes, a miniature version of Hephaestus, “She must look like mister Hepha.”

Troy tilted his head, shaking his head, “I highly doubt it… I think she looks like this.” He lifted his own drawing, a robot with black hair and red eyes.

“She’s not a robot, Troy,” Tyreen huffed, “Mister Hepha said she liked working with them, not be them!” Leto shushed them, the twins covered their mouths.

“What did mister Hephaestus say? Don’t talk about her around here…” Leto whispered, grabbing the drawings, the twins pouting. She grimaced, folding them and putting it under a loose panel near their beds. The twins had grown impatient in the Atlas holding cell with Hephaestus’s absence. Steele had been dragging them both out for more experiments, returning the twins in an agitated state. 

“I don’t want to be here…” Tyreen hissed out, clenching her fists, “The adults are mean…” Her Siren tattoos glowed bright.

Troy rubbed his mechanical arm, frowning. Leto brought them both into a hug, trying to hold back tears, “I’m sorry my little ones… please wait a little longer…” She had gotten confirmation from Hephaestus about their plan.

Their plan for escape.

Tonight, they were leaving this prison hell.

\--------0000000-------

Troy and Tyreen were in the Surveillance Room, alone. Night had fallen once again in the hub, the twins seeking refuge from everyone at the main complex, their generals going about their business. 

Neither had uttered a word to the other.

“She hates me.”

Till now.

“Welcome to the party,” Tyreen muttered, swinging around in her seat, feet up on the console, “Feels fantastic, doesn’t it?” She wanted to ask Troy if he knew your name.

Troy was sitting in his throne, gripping tight at the arm rests. Tyreen heard the fabric being ripped under her brother’s hands.

“She was Master’s lover.”

Tyreen stopped swinging, sitting up straight, “What?”

“She was Master’s lover…” Troy turned to face Tyreen, “Everything makes sense….” He looked broken. 

“S-She… You’re lying…” Tyreen whispered, getting up, “Please tell me you are lying…” Troy shook his head, pulling at his hair. 

“That’s why she despises us, Ty,” Troy said, growling. Tyreen covered her ears. It was already enough not knowing your name and now her brother was dropping this on her.

“We remind her of that asshole.”

Tyreen hiccuped, almost choking on air, sitting back down, trying to catch her breath. The pain in her chest was getting worse, burning. You hated her for being a Siren and it had taken a lot up to this point for you to even talk to her after the beating. 

“….What shitty luck we have…” Tyreen muttered, defeated. 

/I was a fighter for Trinity, participating in gruesome fights for corporate bigwigs, politicians, and celebrities./

You had been forced to participate in the Let’s Flays as Tyreen’s plaything. 

/I was Master’s doll./

You were Tyreen’s little bandit doll.

/He still calls me that… Queen./

Tyreen wanted you to be her friend.

/What’s her name?/

A toy with no name. A lowly bandit such as Perseus knew your name. Of all people. Someone else had your entire trust, not the Calypsos.

Troy sighed, slumping down on his seat, “Shitty luck indeed… What should we do?”

Tyreen glanced at the flickering screens, “Go about our business for now… Has Odie arrived?” 

“Should be soon enough,” Troy responded, rubbing his forehead, “Pip already received the serum stock from the Atlas stronghold.”

“How many did Basil and the others found?” Tyreen brought up the warehouse screen, viewing a decommissioned Atlas truck parked inside. Several crates were being unloaded, wheeled out of sight. The crates had the burned logo of the Crimson Lance. 

“Enough for an entire outpost full of psychos,” Troy chuckled, sitting up now, “Moksha is already having a group of mechanics work on the capsule feeders.” 

“That’s good, we are making progress,” Tyreen said, glad something was working out for once. 

“We should go check on their progress, the faster we finish this the better. We need to take down the Rat King and get to that Vault,” Troy said, standing up. Tyreen nodded, sighing. 

Troy approached her, extending his fist out to her, giving her a half-smile. She smiled back, bumping fists with him. 

“Right,” Tyreen chuckled. 

\--------00000000---------

The Calypsos arrived at the main warehouse, all present scrambling to file in formation to greet them. Troy smirked, popping his jaws to scare some of the mechanics while Tyreen flashed her Siren tattoos, hearing some yelps in the crowd. Despite their inner turmoil, they had to remind their flock they were still in charge, ready to smite anyone stepping out of line. With the situation about the new organization, Trinity, the twins knew not to underestimate Master.

Especially knowing you were his ex-lover.

Deep down, they were aware this would lead to conflict of interest.

From a distance, Pip was working inside a makeshift tent with several vials, engrossed in his work. Not far from him was Moksha, talking to a small group of mechanics that included Perseus and you.

The twins got anxious.

“If we modify it, the serum should stay in the system longer?” Moksha asked, directing the question to you. You nodded, showing her a new capsule feeder, blinking, and then turning around to stare the twins. 

They stopped in their tracks, staring back. Perseus glanced at you, tugging at your sleeve. You looked away, returning back to the group of mechanics at a work bench. 

“Oh! You two are here! Yes, yes!” Pip said, hopping over to Moksha, “We have made excellent progress, my Twin Gods!” Troy and Tyreen walked over, a bit unease at your presence. Moksha tilted her head, curious at their peculiar behavior. Perseus bowed at them, immediately retreating back to the group. 

“Give us good news, Pip, Moksha,” Troy said, trying to concentrate. 

Moksha held out a small tray with various capsule feeders, Pip picking several. Both of them were very excited.

“I have to say, it simply is a marvel! What the plaything has made,” Moksha said, grinning, “She was quick to make these upgraded prototypes of the original one she made, to better use the serum depending on the person’s weight!”

“Haha, yes! Meaning that we can use these on Goliaths and bruisers, more strength!” Pip added, showing a capsule and inserting it on a capsule feeder, “Same process as before, insert them in the nape of the neck and let the feeder do its magic!”

“Wow…” Tyreen whispered, holding a capsule feeder. She could feel the serum reacting to her Siren tattoos. The hair on the back of her neck rose, causing her to shudder. 

“Huh, so this is what you had her doing?” Troy asked, glancing at you. You were busy with the others, working. 

“Well, she’s still not cleared for warehouse work, but this I considered ‘light’ so its fine,” Pip mused, “She seemed happy about it!” He laughed, ignoring the tense expression of the twins. Moksha nudged at him.

Pip coughed, adjusting his glasses, “Hehe, but progress is progress! We should be having this done soon enough, probably this night if not morning and off we go!”

“We can’t depart until Odie-“ Troy was interrupted by loud hollering and whooping, gunshots sounding from a distance. A convoy of bandit tehcnicals barged into the bay, several psychos jumped on the hood of the vehicles, a tink was strapped to the fender of the main large technical, squealing, and marauders with “bomb” symbols on their masks yelled praises for the twins.

Everyone in the warehouse stopped their work, eyeing the new visitors.

“Speak of the devil…” Tyreen muttered, crossing her arms. Odie stepped out from the main vehicle, downing a drink, and throwing it on the floor, glass shattering everywhere.

“Oh no…” Perseus said, furrowing his eyebrows. You looked at him, “What’s wrong? Do you know him?”

“Unfortunately,” Perseus hissed out, trying to resume his work. You were perplexed by his sudden mood change.

“I’M HERE! ANSWERING THE CALL OF THE GOD QUEEN!” Odie shouted, raising his arm up.

“FOR THE GOD QUEEN!” his troops hollered, screeching.

Odie laughed, whooping before zeroing in on the twins, Pip, and Moksha. He had a huge grin on his face, “EY! There you are!” He powerwalked over, kneeling before them. His troops followed, falling to the ground in reverence.

“Odie, good to see you,” Tyreen chuckled at the sight, extending her hand out. 

Odie grabbed it, kissing the top of her hand, “It is an honor to be in your presence, my God Queen. Father Troy spoke of a great need for my help.” Troy rolled his eyes, gesturing for Odie and his entourage to stand. 

“Don’t get full of yourself, Odie,” Troy said, laughing. Pip and Moksha grinned, waving at Odie.

“Pip! Moksha! You little bastards, its been ages!” Odie jumped over to them, picking them up in a tight hug.

“Good grief, I forgot how strong you are!” Pip said, patting Odie on the arm, “You’re going to crack one of my bones!” Moksha laughed, enjoying the gesture. 

“Alright, Odie, we need them alive!” Troy said, shaking his head. 

Odie let them go, snickering, “Aye, of course, so who did The Ripper in?”

Troy smacked Odie’s arm, shushing him, “Keep it down…!” Tyreen sighed in frustration.

“What? You can’t hold out on me- Is that…?” Odie spotted Perseus, ignoring the others, pointing at the mechanic, “YOU BASTARD!” This startled everyone, including you who saw Perseus freeze in his spot. Odie charged over, scaring the mechanics working with you, lifting Perseus up.

“HAHAHA! You have grown a lot!” Odie said, shaking Perseus.

“H-Hey! Put him down!” You shouted, grabbing Odie’s arm. The man looked down at you, cackling. Perseus was hitting Odie on the arms, “Knock it off!”

“But I haven’t seen my little brother in a long time!” Odie said. You gawked, stepping away.

_Brother?!_

“W-Wait, Perseus is your brother?!” Pip said, eyeing the twins. Tyreen’s eyes widen, an ‘Oh, crap!’ expression on her face. Troy was laughing, smacking his knee as he keeled over.

“Oh, damn, Ty! You were close to killing Odie’s brother!” Troy wheezed, laughing harder.

“What,” Odie said, putting Perseus down, “The God Queen was going to kill my brother?” He looked at Perseus, “What did you do?”

“N-Nothing!” Perseus spat back, “Ugh!” You remained on the side, watching everything transpire.

“It’s a fucking long story, all over it involving Ty’s plaything,” Troy said, now staring at you. 

Odie followed his line of sight, “Oh? So, you must be the fair maiden I have seen in the Let’s Flays? The God Queen’s champion?” He grabbed your hand, kissing the top it. The twins tensed up, about to scold Odie when Perseus smacked his brother’s arm away from you.

You were lost and confused by the whole exchange.

Odie grinned, staring at Perseus, “Oh, jealous I might sweep her away?” 

“W-What?!” Perseus shouted. Pip shook his head, making a gesture for Odie to cut it out. Moksha gritted her teeth, mouthing a ‘stop’ at him. The twins were getting angry.

“Odie…” Tyreen started, clenching her fists. 

“Speaking of lovely ladies, where is Helen? Usually she’d be around Father Troy,” Odie said, smiling, nudging at you, “Father Troy is pretty popular with the ladies and guys, you know? One look at them and panties fall! A bunch of cultists just waiting for Father Troy to spare them a glance!” You stepped away from Odie, visibly uncomfortable. Perseus growled, stepping between you and his brother.

“You’re pissing them off…!” Perseus hissing.

“Oh, I am?” Odie kept smiling, hands behind his back, turning to face the twins. Troy was agitated, glaring at Odie while Tyreen’s hands were twitching, furious.

“You better have a good excuse-“ Troy stepped back when Odie leaned forward towards him.

“Pray tell, Father Troy, was that how the enemy got into your head?” Odie whispered, glancing at Tyreen, “This Master guy from the report, sending taunting messages?” Tyreen blinked, anger dissipating upon realizing his intentions. 

Odie was testing them.

Troy growled, ushering Odie and Tyreen away from the crowd into the tent that Pip had working inside of. Pip nodded at Moksha, reentering the tent to keep an eye on the twins and Odie.

“W-What was that…?” you asked Perseus. The mechanic was shaking, growling. 

“My stupid brother, I can’t believe he’s been summoned…” Perseus muttered.

“….It looked like the Calypsos didn’t know you were his brother…?” You observed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He relaxed a bit, sighing. Moksha looked at Perseus with sympathy, shaking her head.

“I didn’t know either, Odie was sent to another outpost a long time ago,” Moksha said, “Any reason for that, Perseus?”

Perseus started at the ground, “I don’t know. Despite my brother being able to read people well, no one including myself could figure him out.” He shrugged, returning back to the workbench. You frowned, not liking seeing him that way. 

\--------000000000-------

Odie rocked on a chair, feet resting on a metal table with several blueprints and hologram displays as he grinned back at the twins. Pip was busy working on the capsules, but tuned in to their conversation.

“Now I remember why I sent you away,” Troy said, frustrated, “But I need your expertise dealing with this asshole known as Master.”

“So, we’re desperate is what you are saying, Troy,” Tyreen mused, rolling her eyes. 

“Aw, I thought you missed me, Troy,” Odie chuckled, “But anyways, who did in The Ripper, I wanted to deck that fucker for ages and someone beat me to it?!”

“Odie…!” Troy slammed his fist on the table, sending blueprints flying off, “Focus!”

“Right, captain!” Odie said, standing up, hands on his hips, “From the report you sent me, this, ‘Master’ guy, very basic nickname if you ask me, seems to have access to our surveillance, sends messages through the EchoNet, and apparently some bandits work for him?”

“That’s the abridged version, yes,” Troy confirmed.

“But, this happened because of….?” Odie wagged his finger, pointing outside the tent. The twins turned around.

You. 

You were oblivious to the conversation, working with Perseus and Moksha and the other mechanics.

“That’s some pretty hardcore lover drama here,” Odie tapped his chin, nodding, “Semi-desperate man, seeking to reclaim his lover who has been captured by bandits, taunting her captors… I’m surprised he hasn’t stormed this place to retrieve her.”

Tyreen looked at Troy, “Did you tell Odie that she was….?” Troy shook his head, surprised as well. 

“Bravo….” Pip said, keeping his eyes on his work. Odie saluted, laughing. 

“I can see how he managed to get under your skin,” Odie said, dropping his goofy expression, “This is a dangerous man who believes he’s in absolute control of the situation. You gave that power to him…”

/Master is a control freak… never lets anyone do their own thing or profit from the group./

“Us?!” Tyreen shouted, “We didn’t give him anything!”

“Ty…” Troy placed a hand on her shoulder, “Listen to what he has to say.” Tyreen huffed. She didn’t like being reminded of her own failures.

/Congratulations, you broke her spirit./

“Even if you don’t respond to the messages, he’s able to see your reactions to it, any progress on cutting him off from the surveillance system?” Odie asked.

“We tried everything, changing the firmware, firewall, using different frequencies but he still keeps getting in…” Troy muttered, throwing a scrap metal off the table in anger, “Its frustrating!”

“He’s been watching… from what we can figure out, it has been going on since the fight with the Terror of the Waste bandit…” Tyreen said, eyeing you from inside the tent. 

“Hm… yeah, I remember that fight, old man Cepheus huh?” Odie said, “Didn’t think he was alive, he was in and out of my radar back in the day in the Blitzkrieg.”

“Right, you were the bandit lord of that group…” Troy mentioned, “After your father passed away.”

“Why didn’t you tell us that… uh, Perseus was your brother?” Tyreen asked, wanting to get the subject over with quickly.

Odie shrugged, “Nobody asked. Besides, why was he about to get evaporated by you, Tyreen?” 

The God Queen got quiet. Troy stared at Tyreen.

“She got jealous because she thought your brother and her plaything were an item,” Pip responded, moving some capsules into a freezer.

“Pip!” Tyreen shouted. Odie blinked, “Wow…. Really?”

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of trouble that led us to with this Master asshole….” Troy said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m sure you read that part of the report.”

“Yep, didn’t think it was that… severe…” Odie looked at Tyreen, “He doesn’t like her that way, if you must know.”

“What?” Tyreen said, taken aback.

“Don’t give her any ideas, Odie,” Troy interjected.

“I’m not giving you and her any ideas, if you two really want to beat this guy, then resolve your issues with her,” Odie pointed at you, “Otherwise, that Master asshole will be having the upper hand. It’s obvious this ‘tension’ you two have going on is getting on the way of your mission.” 

Odie crossed his arms, disappointed, “No wonder Donovan was able to cause a lot of damage before croaking.”

For once, the twins didn’t argue about that. 

It was going to be a long night in the hub.

\--------00000000-------

Leto leaned back on her reclining chair, a blanket on her lap as she watched the lights go off in the cell, dictating nighttime. The twins were curled up on the bed, sound asleep. She closed her eyes, drifting off, hearing the footsteps of the medics retreating into the observatory. 

Old routine, the same old routine. Day after day. Night after night. The twins would be taken away, returned to the cell, their mother comforting them, off to bed. 

Tonight would be different.

The beeping of the door’s lock went off, Steele walking in, her eyes and Siren tattoos glowing. Quietly, she approached and stood in front of the cell in the dark, watching Tyreen sleep.

“You will make Supreme Commander Gaia proud, little sister….” Steele whispered, narrowing her eyes. Tyreen flinched in her sleep, snuggling closer to Troy. Steele gazed at the boy, eye twitching, the three blue dots on her face flaring. 

She had seen Troy as an inconvenience, deadweight, only useful for her experiments to get Tyreen to cooperate. The only reason Troy was alive, besides that, was due to Hephaestus’s operation and the mechanical arm the boy sported. 

“Weak…” Steele growled, seeing Troy squirm under her gaze. Tyreen draped her Siren arm around him, blocking Steele’s power from reaching him. 

“Your powers… are growing, little sister…” Steele touched the cell barrier, staring further inside, “Soon, you will be extremely powerful… Like Supreme Commander Gaia… you will surpass me eventually, I can’t wait to witness that…”

The pale Siren remained in her spot, watching the family sleep.

“The time will come for the Gortys Project to be realized… and you will be its core…” Steele said, smiling, “You will usher in a new glorious age for Atlas with the Vaults.”

Tyreen whimpered in her sleep, her Siren tattoos glowing bright then dim.

“A new age of war.”

\------0000000--------

“WAR IS WHAT WE WILL BE DELIVERING TO THOSE WHO OPPOSE US!” Odie shouted, atop from his bandit technical, waving a gun around, “TO THOSE WHO OPPOSE THE CALYPSOS!”

“FOR THE CALYPSOS!” the armed cultists shouted, raising their guns up in the arm. Several shot out a few rounds, whooping and hollering.

“GIVE YOUR FLESH! TAKE YOUR GUNS! WE FIGHT FOR THEIR GLORY!” Odie continued, eyes wide.

“FOR THE CALYPSOS! FOR THE CALYPSOS!”

Odie laughed, shooting up in the air several times, “THAT’S FUCKING RIGHT!”

“FOR THE GLORY OF THE GOD QUEEN!”

You watched from behind the crowd, half focusing on the commotion. Your mind was reeling from what you had spilled to Troy the day before at Helen’s grave. Unintentionally, you divulged your relationship with Master in the heat of the moment. Now, your mind was feeding you memories when you were ‘happy’ with Cetus, the days before he showed his true colors.

Or the day you realized you were in love with a monster.

The little monster in your head was screeching, begging you to bury those memories away. You really wanted to, but having grown exhausted of your current life… you were slipping up…

Itching to escape and go back to him.

“That’s what he wants.”

You jumped, looking up at Odie. He grinned down at you, “Sup, plaything.” You stepped away from him. Odie laughed, giving you a cheeky smile.

“No need to be afraid of me! I hardly bite, maybe a little, but that’s besides the point!” Odie mused, “Everyone wandered off to get ready for the raid and you stood there like a skag staring down at a leechworm at the marshlands.”

“Oddly specific…” you observed, “What do you want?” You were in no mood for games.

“Pft, damn, the Twin Gods are real masochists if they are enamored by you,” Odie gestured, laughing.

You huffed, “I didn’t ask to be the object of their affections….” You never wanted it. 

“Doesn’t take anyone to figure that out, but let me tell you, its real on their part,” Odie said, leaning forward, “Known them for a long time, I can assure you that the God Queen is really, really into you… as for Father Troy, he seems conflicted.”

“Helen,” you spill out, shocked at your own words. Odie seemed to have an aura around him to get people talking.

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Odie said, frowning, “Lovely girl, unfortunate what Donovan did to her.” You looked away from him, keeping calm. Although Donovan was dead and Jackal had his revenge, you couldn’t bare letting go. 

“You killed him, didn’t you?” Odie asked, smirking, “I’ve seen your Let’s Flays, last one was extremely gory, you were sending a message out.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Nope, someone else worthy did it,” you answered.

Someone that wasn’t Troy. 

“I think you and I will become good buddies, rest assured that I won’t be like Donovan,” Odie laughed, smacking you on the back, causing you to cough, “I won’t go behind your back to kill you! You’ll see it coming!”

“Keep your hands to yourself, Odie.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Odie said, saluting to his side. You rubbed the back of your neck, turning to see the Calypsos approaching you and Odie. 

“Odie, order everyone to be ready for departure,” Tyreen said. Odie bowed, winking at you before taking off. He missed the glares the Calypsos threw at his retreating form. You wanted the earth to swallow you whole.

Refusing to look at them in the eye, you stared down at the ground, eyeing their boots. You wondered if Troy told Tyreen what had happened at the cathedral. She way already jealous of Perseus and with the knowledge of being Master’s ex-lover, she’d be unpredictable in her reactions.

Perseus was threatened with death, you got a beating… your mind fed you ‘what ifs’ should the God Queen snap again.

**Danger.**

You had to stay far **away** from her.

“We’re heading out to the Rat King’s base,” Tyreen said, bringing you back to reality, “We won’t be back for a few days.” 

“Stay out of trouble, alright?” Troy said, forced. This time, he didn’t mess with your hair as he used to. 

Nodding, you still looked anywhere but at them. You were hoping they weren’t going to ask for a kiss or anything. You jumped when you felt Tyreen’s hand on your cheek. 

“Wait for us, okay?” she whispered, pulling her hand away. You flinched, panic setting in. 

**Run.**

She’s going to **hurt** you.

With your anxiety all-time high, your mind spat out memories of Tyreen’s harsh grips on your chin, digging her nails into your skin. You gulped, pinching the skin on your wrist unconsciously.

The twins noticed the reaction.

“W-Where else am I going to go?” you replied automatically, voice cracking. You were caged. 

**Trapped.**

You had to get **out.**

Troy raised an eyebrow at your tone. He extended his arm out, about to touch your head, but refrained when he saw you take a step back.

“Let’s go, Ty,” he said, walking past you. Tyreen followed, a worried look on her face, their footsteps growing faint behind you. 

You wanted to **scream.**

\------00000000------

“Your entourage is going to head out to the Rat King’s base, the other convoy will take us to the Red Vault,” Troy informed Odie, “From there, we will meet up at the location, don’t attack.”

“Gotcha, also, she’s not coming with us? The God Queen’s plaything?” Odie said, seeing you through the side mirror, “She knows more about the Rat King.” You were still standing by yourself at the bay area, visibly agitated. 

“We….We don’t want her interfering… She communicated with Master and we don’t want to take any chances,” Troy said. Tyreen sighed, not arguing the point with her brother. Master had already done enough damage to the cult. 

“You don’t trust her anymore.”

The twins silence was taken as a ‘yes’ to the former bandit lord.

Odie growled, gripping tight the wheel of the vehicle, “I told you two to sort out your issues with her. We need to be 100% in this, we can’t make any mistakes.” 

“When we come back… we will,” Troy said, banging on the side of the vehicle, “Let’s move out.” Tyreen followed Troy to their war technical, Odie shook his head. 

The main convoy with the twins departed while Odie’s group remained on standby. The right-hand man tapped on his EchoNet device, biting his lip. Hesitantly, he dialed in.

“Moksha, do me a huge favor,” Odie said. 

The twins didn’t want you meddling this time around, but they made no comment about the right-hand man. 

\-----000000--------

Troy stared outside the window, deep in thought.

/You don’t trust her anymore./

He did trust you, but felt betrayed. Granted that you were upset about Helen, he figured with Donovan gone, things were going to get better between him and you. 

But you **TRUSTED** Master to deal with his ex-right-hand man. 

/Losing ourselves to pieces of filth./

“Troy.”

“Yeah…?” he replied, still looking out into the barren wasteland.

“….Do you know her name?” Tyreen whispered, her voice small. He knew she was referring to you.

“No,” Troy said, adjusting his posture, leaning his head back on the seat, “How did that come up..?”

“…I talked to Perseus,” Tyreen confessed.

“You-“ Her brother didn’t need another thing to worry about. 

“I didn’t do anything… I…I apologized to him,” Tyreen said, playing with the hem of her jacket, “I apologized for trying to hurt him… Gosh, I feel like I need his permission to interact with my plaything…”

“You? Apologizing?”

“Troy, please… I’m trying, I really am,” Tyreen curled up on her seat, hugging her knees, “I.. I told Perseus I loved her… but I feel like a fucking idiot when he asked me if I knew her name.” 

“You still have a long way to go, sis. This whole love bullshit business… I wouldn’t recommend it,” Troy said, sighing.

“…I should say the same to you. You normally mess with her hair before we’d go off on raids,” Tyreen said, glancing at him, “She noticed that.” It amazed Troy that even Tyreen had picked up on that as well. 

“She’ll live,” Troy growled, clenching and unclenching his mechanical fist, “…Maybe that fucker can go ahead and give her all the petting she needs…”

“Troy….”

Her brother slammed his fist on the seat, hissing, “She fucking communicated with that fucking asshole! To take down Donovan!” His voice cracked, “W-Why didn’t she tell me anything? He was my right-hand man for fuck’s sake!”

“S-She didn’t tell me anything either, Troy,” Tyreen said, attempting to calm down her brother.

“Why would she?! She was fucking mad at you for what you did to Helen!” Troy yelled, breathing heavily, “I-I thought she’d at least trust me… I just… She told I wasn’t worthy…” 

“Worthy of what…?”

“Getting revenge for Helen,” Troy whispered, fighting back the urge to cry in anger, “She told me I wasn’t worthy of it… She didn’t even know Helen as well as I did but yet she made that call…” 

“T-Troy… calm down…” Tyreen could sense her brother’s energy fluctuating, the red marks on his arm glowing dim. 

“She called me filth…” Troy hunched over, covering his face, laughing, “She fucking compared me to that fucking bastard…”

“…You said it yourself: ‘We remind her of that asshole,’” Tyreen sighed, looking out the window of the technical. The mountainous region where the Red Vault was located came into view in the far distance. 

/I can’t help you, my God Queen, until you find out what her name is./ She wanted to find out your name, but the current situation was proving to be tricky if you were getting volatile with Troy and in extension, with her as well. 

“It will be a while before we get to Mother, get some sleep, Troy,” Tyreen said, getting comfortable in her seat. 

Sleep was difficult to come by for the twins.

\-------000000------

“Troy…. Tyreen.. wake up….”

The twins opened their eyes, blinking, adjusting their vision. Their mother, Leto, pulled at their blankets, ushering them off the bed.

“Are we…?” Troy asked. Leto nodded, gesturing for him to keep quiet. The twins quickly put on their coats and shoes, waiting on their mother. The red doll was neatly tucked in Tyreen’s coat pocket, joining the escape. Leto grabbed their hands, waiting at the edge of the cell block’s barrier. 

“Mummy…?”

Leto gripped their hands tight, taking a deep breath. 

BEEP!

The barrier disappeared, allowing the family to step out of their holding cell. Leto tugged at the twins, keeping close to the walls. The main door’s lock’s light turned from red to green, allowing them complete exit from the area. 

“Quickly…” Leto whispered, the twins trying to keep up with her pace. They went down a corridor, hugging the walls, until they reached a main waiting room. The walls were plastered with paintings of several Atlas military generals, the twin’s eyeing the large one with Gaia Juno on it. The woman’s Siren marks struck fear in them.

“Wait here…” Leto had the twins stand by a pillar as she walked in, heading towards a small table with a blue box on it. She opened it, retrieving a watch, placing it on her wrist. Dialing a code, she waited.

.:INCOMING MESSAGE:.

.:P.Juno: Good, you made it out. Follow the next set of instructions, you must act fast to get the children out!

.:P. Juno: I have disabled the security firewall for at least 30 minutes, it should give you enough time to bypass the guards. Head to the docking area in the upper levels.

.:P. Juno: [USER SENT IMAGE]

A small hologram map of the Atlas base emerged from the watch, displaying the route that the Calypso family needed to take in red. 

.:L.C: Thank you. We will go now.

.:P.Juno: Go, now!

Leto retrieved the twins, glancing at her watch and leading them down another hallway. Tyreen and Troy gave one quick look at Gaia’s portrait.

They swore her eyes moved, staring back at them. 

\-------00000000-------

Perseus and you were slumped over the bar, lamenting and berating internally from the day’s events. The bartender had left you an ice bucket full of alcohol, your friend appropriating some. You had drunk several bottles of rakk-ale, cursing at yourself and wanting to throttle anyone on sight, specifically Odie. The man had gotten under your skin before departing for the raid.

/Doesn’t take anyone to figure that out (that you don’t like the Calypsos), but let me tell you, its real on their part./

You wanted to call him out on his bullshit.

/Known them for a long time, I can assure you that the God Queen is really, really into you… as for Father Troy, he seems conflicted./

Always about them.

No one bothered to ask how the plaything felt.

/It doesn’t matter what you think, Father Troy gets what he wants./

The fallen lover’s words haunted you. But they were filled with the truth.

“That fucking Odie… ugh…” Perseus muttered, chugging down more rakk-ale, “Why, oh why….?”

“Your brother… is something,” you offered, pushing empty bottles of rakk-ale aside, resting your head on the bar, “I feel naked in front of him…”

“Yeah, he can read people too good… That’s how he knew not to mess with the Twin Gods when they showed up at our camp,” Perseus said, rubbing his face. A light tint of red was on his cheeks, the alcohol having an effect on him. 

“So, he was the bandit leader you spoke about, huh? Blitzkrieg?” you asked, looking up at him from your position, “Is ‘Odie’ short for something…?”

The man sighed, nodding, “His full name is Odysseus, doesn’t like it, says makes him sound like an old man. He took over once our father died. Annoying as he was, he kept us alive.” Perseus fiddled with a bottle cap, flicking it off. The cap hit a sleeping bar patron who mumbled.

“Huh… well at least he has some common sense,” you said, sighing. 

“….”

“What’s wrong? I mean, there’s plenty of things-“

“The God Queen spoke to me in private,” Perseus said, taking another sip of his drink. You immediately shot up from your seat, bumping into the old bar. Several of the rakk-ale bottles toppled off, crashing and breaking on the floor. The bartender yelled a ‘Hey!’ at you.

Ignoring the bartender, you grabbed Perseus by the shoulders, checking his head, hands and face, “D-Did she do anything to you!? I swear if she-“

Perseus grabbed your arms, shaking his head, “Nothing of that sort… Jackal was with me, calm down…”

“Calm down!? Last time she tried to kill you!” you shouted, taking a deep breath, “W-Why did she summon you?” Perseus patted your abandoned seat. You complied, frustrated. 

“She… She apologized to me,” Perseus said, running a hand through his hair, “For what happened in the courtyard.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, perplexed. Before you could ask anything, Perseus took out a single purple hyacinth from his leather bag, placing it on the table.

‘Please forgive me.’

You stared at the flower. 

Tyreen had tried apologizing to you using the flower’s meaning.

“She was sincere about it, that I can tell,” Perseus continued, keeping a neutral face, “A bit desperate, but sincere… She told she wanted to be your friend, asked for my help.”

“My friend…?” you carefully asked, “What did you tell her?” You didn’t want to push Perseus away. That had been one of your major fears since your capture, that anyone you befriended would rat out secrets about yourself to the Calypsos.

“I refused, somewhat,” Perseus replied, “Told her I couldn’t help her… I got a bit carried away and got angry, I asked her why would I listen to her, after she had hurt you.”

Perseus turned to face you, a frown decorating his lips, “She told me she loves you.”

“….” You rubbed your hands together, goosebumps travelling through your body. That fact you knew, even Odie emphasized it but for Tyreen to confess that to someone else was shocking. 

To the person she was jealous of.

“She doesn’t even know me, aside from the fights….” You whispered, pinching your skin on your wrists. Perseus grabbed your hand, stopping you. The little monster wanted to scream.

“Maybe that’s why she wants to be your friend, she wants to get to know you better,” Perseus offered, letting go, “Don’t take it as me backing her up or anything. I just wanted tell you what happened.” For your own sake as well, he declined to inform about the whole ‘name’ issue.

If Tyreen was truthful about her intentions, Perseus thought, she’d have to go on her way to find out your name.

You bit your lip, closing your eyes, fighting back tears. 

You were only a plaything, the little monster said.

Waiting to be killed or discarded.

You felt Perseus’s hand on your shoulder, his grip tight.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.

Someone has to be.

**No one bothered to ask how the plaything felt.**

\------00000000---------

The pitter patter of feet was drowned out by the loud honks and revving engines of the Atlas transportation trucks in the lower decks, Leto and the twins hiding from the guards behind several crates. The message had been delivered:

‘Board Truck #3’

Leto peeked from the side of the crate, nervous. She glanced around for the truck, spotting it on the opposite side of the underground warehouse. Timing perfectly, she ushered the twins to the next set of crates, maneuvering about to avoid the watchful gaze of the Crimson Lance soldiers. 

“Mummy…” Tyreen whispered, grabbing her head, “It hurts…”

“We’re almost there sweetie.. come on,” Leto said, her and the twins reaching the truck. The back-compartment’s door was open, giving them access. Leto picked up Troy, pushing the boy in and doing the same with Tyreen. The little girl kept grabbing her head, her brother pulling her further into the truck. Before Leto could jump in, the truck driver exited the vehicle, freezing in his spot. Both stared at each other.

“Oh no…” Leto whispered, fear creeping up.

The truck driver glanced at his vehicle, then at her, giving her a nod, gesturing for her to hurry up. Leto flashed a thumbs up at him, quickly jumping inside. The driver came into view, double-checking his side, pushing crates around.

“Get inside one of the empty crates….” The driver said, pushing a button to close the door. Leto nudged the twins towards the back of the compartment, searching for an empty crate. Tyreen whimpered, shaking.

“Ty..?” Troy shook her, “Mummy, Ty is hurting…!” Leto touched Tyreen’s forehead.

She was burning up.

“W-What? Impossible, she was fine earlier…” Leto said, reaching into her coat’s pocket, retrieving a small bottle of water, “Sweetie, open up… we’re gonna be out soon enough….”

“Mummy…” Tyreen gasped out, pushing the bottle away, “No…”

Leto held back tears, pleading, “H-Hang on, Tyreen, just hang on…” She picked her up, setting her inside one of the crates, helping Troy in, “Keep an eye on your sister.” Troy nodded, huddling up with the whimpering girl. 

Leto looked at her watch, her hands shaking as she sent a message out. She yelped when she felt the truck move, the engine starting. 

.:L.C: My daughter is not feeling well, she was fine these past days.

.:P. Juno: What? We made sure she and Troy were healthy before setting this in motion.

.:L.C: She’s burning up, I don’t know what to do.

.:P. Juno: Hold out until you reach the rendezvous point, Hepha will look into it. Cool her down.

Sobbing, Leto peeked into the crate. Tyreen was shaking uncontrollably in Troy’s arms. She took out a cloth from her bag, pouring water from the bottle, handing it to Troy. The boy pressed it against his sister’s forehead, her lips quivering. 

“Mummy…” Tyreen whispered. Leto grabbed her hand, “I’m here sweetie…” The jostle of the truck’s tires hitting the ground spooked them. Leto’s gaze was on the compartment’s door, paranoid. Soon, Tyreen’s shaking ceased, the little girl passing out in her brother’s arms. Troy followed, holding his sister. Leto gripped tightly the edge of the crate, breathing heavily.

The ride inside the compartment felt like an eternity. Leto drank water, her lips parched and throat dry. Her mind was trying to register the concept of freedom, far too long inside the Atlas cell that became ‘home’ for five years.

A ping from her watch startled her, Leto fumbling with the water bottle.

.:INCOMING MESSAGE!:.

.:H.Juno: Are you out????

.:L.C: Yes, inside truck.

Leto cursed at herself, nervous. Her mind completed the sentences faster than her own fingertip could type out the response.

.:H.Juno: Good, I’ll be waiting in the rendezvous point, keep a low profile. 

.:L.C: I’ll try, Tyreen got sick out of nowhere, we’ll get there.

.:H.Juno: Crap, just make it to the meeting point.

Leto prayed to any entity willing to listen for her children to make it out alive.

\-------000000000---------

Leto sat on the altar, her hand on Tyreen’s head, gently petting the Siren’s head who was asleep. Troy was enveloped in a vine cocoon, his still beating heart audible as the crimson vines replenished his energy. She had watched the memories of the twins, catching up with their activities since the last blood ritual.

Helen’s death. Your beating. Your suicide attempt. The outpost attacks. Troy and Tyreen’s intense guilt. Your recovery. Donovan’s death. 

And the Vault.

The memory that kept popping up in the twin’s minds aside from you. 

“The Vault of Power, I see…” Leto whispered, her hand movements stopping. Tyreen whimpered in her sleep.

The moment the twins stepped inside the Red Vault, she picked up on an extra ‘energy’ within them. From the memories, it had been the residual effects of the serum, slowly seeping out of their system after absorbing, consuming the test subjects at the Harvest grounds. This was going to pose a problem for her. 

“Huh, someone has been using Mimic’s powers to enhance the mortals’ strength and that girl knows about it….” Leto said, growling, “Damnit, I can’t allow Troy and Tyreen to consume it further.” She summoned several crimson vines, the plants wrapping themselves around Tyreen. The Siren Calypso whined, squirming.

“Sssh… its okay sweetie… Mother will make you feel better too,” Leto cooed, patting Tyreen’s cheek as the vine fully enclosed around the woman. She had to ensure to get the serum completely out of their system before letting them go. 

“I need them to be focused… I need more Vaults opened…” Leto hissed, placing a hand on each cocoon, “…my beloved children, you need to cease this foolishness…”

The red eyes watching from a distance disappeared, a deep, low, rumbling shaking the ground, the blood pools boiling. The environment began to shift around the altar, the ground opening up and swallowing several decaying corpses, red crystals shooting up from the empty pockets of earth.

Leto was furious.

“Whoever this Master is…. You will pay for meddling….” Leto growled, digging her nails into the vines, “And you too, Mimic.”

More crimson vines erupted from the ground, coiling around Leto. Several blood orbs appeared from the husk of the vines, floating around Leto and the cocooned twins.

“Mother… is it true? Mimic is involved?” a voice said, garbled.

“Mother, they pose no problem to us,” another voice said, high-pitched.

“Not to us, but to the mortals,” Leto said, breathing heavily, “If this Master has dealt with the Vault of Power, there’s no telling how involved Mimic is with the mortals’ affairs.”

It would be trouble for the Children of the Vault.

\----0000000------

“Sleep well, little sister,” Steele said as she stared at the surveillance camera, “Tomorrow, we will be starting the tests for Gortys.” Guards were keeping watch, checking and adjusting the cameras’ frequencies. 

The screens showed the inside of the holding cell, the twins asleep and Leto on the chair. It flickered to reveal the empty bed and chair.

“C-Commandant Steele! They’re gone?!” one of the security guards shouted, panicking on spot. The others shot up from their seats, frightened.

Steele remained calm, smirking, “So he made his move…. Hephaestus, you are one sly skag. Too bad you underestimated my powers. After all, I was trained by your mother.” Her Siren tattoos flashed, the three marks under her eye glowing bright. She, briefly, was able to pinpoint their location, connecting with Tyreen. 

Her clairvoyance ability granted to her by Gaia to use with her own Siren power.

“Commandant?”

“Ready the troops, I want the Calypso twins alive, I don’t care for their mother,” Steele ordered, leaving the surveillance room.

“Yes, ma’am!”

Steele passed by several hallways, the Crimson Lance soldiers filing out, alarms blazing, jumping into their Crimson Lancer vehicles. She stood by the docks, her eyes glowing blue. Trails of Tyreen’s power were visible her, allowing the pale Siren to trace the little girl’s escape.

Someone had aided them from the inside aside from Hephaestus.

This time, Steele thought, no more second chances.

\--------0000000------

Troy and Tyreen averted their gaze to the ground while Leto walked in front of them, frustrated. The tall Calypso was back in full health, ready alongside his sister for the scolding that was coming up. Both had seen this coming. 

“You two fought, Tyreen used a vial, and Troy wasted his energy healing someone,” Leto said, stopping in front of them, “Troy overexerted himself during a raid and now we’re here.”

“It wasn’t wasted,” Troy muttered, eye twitching.

“What was that?” Leto said, slightly hissing.

“Nothing,” Troy quickly replied, gulping.

“M-Mother… We’ve worked it out, r-right Troy?” Tyreen said, looking at Troy, nervous. He nodded, still looking down.

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Leto observed, crossing her arms, “I know sibling quarrels is normal and all, but the fact that you two were fighting over a girl is ridiculous!” The twins flinched, afraid at her loud voice.

“Troy, you’ve had plenty of…” Leto gestured with her hand, “’bedwarmers,’ lovers, I don’t see why you are going to this extent, healing and chasing after this girl!” Troy growled.

“And you, Tyreen! Your playthings end up dead in the arena or by your hand, this is unbecoming of you, getting attached!” Tyreen clenched her fists. 

“Mother… if you would please hear us out…” Troy gritted out, anger bubbling up. 

“She has information about a Vault…” Tyreen said, breathing heavily, hands twitching. 

“You’ve found other Vaults without help from someone, why now?” Leto asked, baffled by the twin’s extreme attachment to you. She knew from their memories about Helen and Troy’s diminishing feelings for the woman, skipping over to you for attention. Tyreen didn’t care about her playthings until you came along, immediately smitten and wanting your affections. 

“We love her,” the twins blurted out, Tyreen staring at Troy, surprised as well. Leto also looked at Troy, eyes wide. Tyreen had been the only one with the memory of a love confession, telling Perseus about it. Troy faced forward, avoiding Tyreen’s questioning look. 

Leto shook her head, chuckling, “Let me guess, she doesn’t like either of you?” 

“No,” Troy answered, remembering what you had told him about your view of Helen’s failed relationship with him. 

“S-She hates us…” Tyreen added, biting her lip. Her Siren tattoos’ glow was dim. The nearby crimson vines shriveled up, reacting to the Calypsos’ emotions. Leto picked up on this, narrowing her eyes.

“Then get rid of her.”

“W-What?!” Tyreen shouted, standing up, “W-We can’t do that!” Troy got up as well, alarmed.

“M-Mother, you can’t be serious!” Troy pleaded. 

Leto was unfazed by their outburst, her expression displaying quiet anger, “She is getting in the way of our plans. We have no time for little distractions such as this.”

“She’s not a distraction!” Tyreen stomped her foot, her boot splashed with blood, “Sh-She…”

“She is one of us now! She is part of the family whether you like it or not!” Troy yelled, growling. Leto raised an eyebrow, half-expecting this reaction from the twins.

The most recent ‘happy’ memory the twins shared about you was the sleepover, the twins endeared by your laughter and for allowing them to be physically close to you. She could sense their desire for more. Tyreen’s blissfulness and Troy’s protective need were fulfilled. However, they were ‘heartbroken’ about your cold indifference prior to their departure to the Red Vault, both of them conflicted after finding out you were Master’s lover.

They still thought of you. Enamored.

You had changed them.

And Leto didn’t like that.

The twins stood defiant, having expressed their thoughts about you. 

“Fine,” Leto said, turning around, facing away from them, “Do what you must, I’m leaving this in your hands, but remember, your mission still stands.”

Tyreen approached Leto, Troy following her, both of them placing a hand on Leto’s shoulders, “We know Mother….”

“We are to open the Great Vault to set you free from here,” Troy whispered, “We won’t fail you on that.”

Leto wiped a tear from her cheek, sobbing, “I know…” 

The crocodile tears always worked.

From a far, the red, glowing eyes quietly observed, a low growl emitted from the crimson shadows. 

Failure wasn’t an option for the Twin Gods.

\----0000000------

The truck’s abrupt stop awoke Leto, the twins yelping inside the crate. Shushing them, Leto stood up, peeking over the crates that blocked their view of the compartment door. She hid once the door was opened, the driver looking inside.

“Pst, hey! Lady!” he called out.

Leto emerged from her spot, eyeing him cautiously.

“This is your stop, you gotta go! Now!” he said, setting up a ladder. She nodded, quickly going to the crate for the twins. 

“Come on little ones, Tyreen are you feeling better?” Leto asked, helping Troy out. 

“My head hurts…” Tyreen said, being picked up by Leto, “Mummy….” Leto grabbed Troy’s hand, navigating through the crates with Tyreen in one arm. The driver helped her with Tyreen while Troy stepped down via the ladder followed by their mother. 

“T-Thank you, sir…” Leto said, receiving Tyreen from the driver.

“Don’t thank me yet, Mr. Hephaestus has set up a place for you and the kids to rest. You never saw me, okay?” the driver said, removing the ladder and closing the compartment’s doors. Leto quickly checked her watch, viewing a small map. She held Tyreen tightly, Troy following close to her as they walked into a small outpost camp. Once reaching the camp, they heard the engine of the truck starting again, the driver speeding off. 

“Mummy…” Tyreen whined, clinging to her, “My head.. its hurting again…” 

“J-Just hang on sweetie…. Troy, stay close to me, keep the coat on, don’t let anyone see your mechanical arm,” Leto said, kissing Tyreen on the forehead. Troy held on tightly to Leto’s coat as they entered and mingled with the local population.

“Troy, see if you can find a yellow bell sign with the words ‘Lucky,’” Leto said, glancing around. The boy started looking, slightly frightened by the appearance of bandits and other shady people around them. 

“O-Oh, mummy, there…!” Troy whispered, tugging at her robe. Down an alleyway, a neon sign flickered with a cat’s yellow bell and the white lettering ‘Lucky’ marked the spot. The family waded through the crowd, making their way there. Troy opened the door, his mother walking in. A little bell went off, signaling their arrival.

Leto observed her surroundings, the area empty of life. No one was at the reception counter; a fan blew air through several pages of a booklet resting by the small call bell. She noticed a couch, moving over to place Tyreen there, ordering Troy to remain with her. 

She went back to the counter, gulping, ringing the bell. 

A woman appeared from behind the counter, cackling. 

“Hey! How’s it going?!” the woman said, laughing. Leto jumped back, holding her chest, startled. 

“I-I… W-We…” Leto struggled to speak, recovering from the fright. Troy held on to Tyreen, afraid as well.

“Oh, you three, I have a reservation for you!” the woman said, disappearing behind the counter again and reappearing with a key and a note, “Your room is upstairs, down the hallway, on the left side! I’ll bring some food for you!” She twirled and hopped over to the side, opening the door into her office.

“Any luggage?” she asked. Leto shook her head, “N-No, we’ll be okay, thank you…”

“No problem! Have a good night’s sleep!” the woman chirped, heading back to her office. Leto gave the room key to Troy, picking up Tyreen. They headed up the stairwell, Troy eyeing curiously at the lady who was facing the fan, the air blowing on her face. He could see an upside-down triangle scar on the woman’s wrinkled neck.

The family walked down the hallway, finding their room and entering. Troy closed the door, setting the locks in as Leto placed Tyreen on one of the beds, sighing.

“Mummy…” Tyreen whimpered, curling up, “I-It hurts… feel hot…” 

“Big sis!” Troy ran over to her, holding her hand, but yelped.

“W-What happened?!” Leto noticed a burn mark on Troy’s palm, the boy sobbing, “T-Troy, cool it off in the sink, shoot…!” The boy rushed over to the bathroom, splashing water on the light burn. 

Tyreen wailed, her Siren tattoos flaring bright, “Mummy! Mummy!” Leto ran into the bathroom, grateful for a tub, immediately turning on the faucet and placing the water stopper. Troy whimpered, nervous as his mother moved about to grab towels. He saw her return to the bedroom, coming back into the bathroom with Tyreen wrapped in a blanket and placing her inside the tub. 

“Ty…” Troy said, crying, “Mummy…. She’s hurting… a lot…” Leto was having difficulty staying calm, watching Tyreen squirm in the water. She splashed water on her daughter’s head to cool Tyreen off. Troy approached them, kneeling by the tub, reaching inside.

“T-Troy, you’ll get burned..!” Leto pleaded. 

“I need to help her… Too much energy…” Troy said, placing his human hand on Tyreen’s Siren arm. His sister’s tattoos flared again, encroaching into his own arm but converting to red, stiff bands. Leto watched as Troy grunted, pulling back, red marks appearing on the left side of his face.

“T-Troy? Troy… are you okay?” Leto asked, afraid. Troy slumped over the side of the tub, heaving.

“I-I’m okay, mummy…” Troy replied, laying his head on his mother’s lap, “Ty, Ty…” Leto placed a hand on his head, petting it.

Tyreen gasped for air, clinging to her mother’s arm, “T-Troy..? Mummy? W-Where are we?” Leto sobbed, tears falling, 

“Free…”

\------00000000-------

Odie flipped through various hologram maps displaying the marshlands and the outside of the Rat King’s stronghold, pondering. Mouthpiece checked the various surveillances feeds, making note of the activities going on at the enemy’s bandit camp. A surveyor was perched on his helmet, beeping. 

“Didn’t think you’d get called back,” Mouthpiece said, checking his EchoNet device, “As long as you don’t antagonize the God Queen’s plaything, we’ll be fine.”

Odie laughed, “She’s real popular huh, though, she doesn’t like being in the spotlight.”

“Nope, and with this Rat King, it ain’t dying soon enough,” Mouthpiece said, “The heathen Donovan conspiring with this Master really put a dent on the Twin Gods’ energies.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re here to reenergize them,” Odie mused, a ping emitting from his and Mouthpiece’s EchoNet devices, “Ah, the Twin Gods are here, it’s showtime, Mouthpiece!”

“Hehehe,” Mouthpiece chuckled, turning on the surveyors waiting outside, “For the glory of the Twin Gods…!”

“For their glory indeed!” Odie laughed. He was itching to see the mayhem the Twin Gods had planned for the Rat King.

\------00000-------

The Calypsos had arrived from their trip to the Red Vault, itching to get into battle. The arguments with Mother had soured, dampened their mood. Their current target, the Rat King, would serve as their punching bag. Troy and Tyreen’s marks were glowing bright, the air around them getting heavy, suffocating. The priests that were standing by, retreated, coughing. 

“Holy shit, any more glaring and you’ll set the entire stronghold on fire!”

“Odie,” Troy sighed, somewhat relaxing, “Status update.” Both he and Tyreen turned to face the approaching Odie and Mouthpiece, the priests at ease with the generals’ presence.

“We have scouts placed around, all nooks and crannies covered,” Odie said, a surveyor flying around, flashing a hologram map of the entire Rat bandit fort, “We are by the main entrance, all other entrances are covered in case they decide to escape the coop.”

Troy seemed impressed with Odie’s work, his new right-hand man having mobilized different factions of cultists in a short amount of time. 

“The Rats have defense barricades and defense turrets set by the main entrance, wouldn’t be surprised if they had been waiting for us,” Odie stated, pointing at the hologram map, “I have set up attack points here and here, break in through the front first, then have the remaining scouts barge through the other entrances. Overwhelming them.” The twins were liking where this was going.

“We saw several red surveyors mingling about,” Mouthpiece stated, bringing up a surveillance feed showing the roofs of the stronghold, two red surveyors flying around and reentering by a window, “I’m assuming those are from Trinity.”

Troy huffed, nodding, “Yeah, that means that bastard is watching.” He popped his neck and jaws.

“Should we shoot them down?” Mouthpiece asked.

“No,” Tyreen said, “I want that bastard to watch how we pummel his little friend….” She clenched her fists, growling. Her Siren tattoos glowed bright.

Odie smirked, “Hehehe, the more the merrier, eh?” He digistructed a sniper rifle out, holding it up.

“Mouthpiece, everything ready for the LiveScream?” Troy asked, jumping down from the platform they had been standing on, followed by Tyreen and Odie.

Mouthpiece, speaking through a comm, confirmed, “Yes, everything is good to go, Father Troy. Basil and the online mods await the transmission.”

“What about the Fanatics?” Tyreen said, walking forward, the armed cultists filing up, guns ready. A large group of psychos, Goliaths, and bruisers were lined up front, cackling, their bodies twitching. Their skins were tinted with a light purple tone. 

The Fanatics. 

Cultists armed with the low-dosage serum, ready to fight.

Ready to tear into flesh. Ready to spill blood.

“Ready to pop and drop at your call, my God Queen,” Odie said, whistling at someone at an upper platform. Pip glanced down, saluting.

“Haha, can’t wait to get good data on this!” Pip said, laughing, “Got the notes the plaything sent over, should be a piece of cake.”

“Alright… Let’s do this…” Troy said, looking up to see a red surveyor in the distance. It flew around, quickly leaving the area once spotted by Troy.

Odie whistled, hollering at everyone, “FANATICS! MARCH FORWARD! DESTROY EVERYONE IN YOUR PATH!” The psychos, Goilaths, and bruisers roared, bellowing war cries, rushed forward, barging into the grounds in front of the main entrance of the Rat bandits’ camp. CoV surveyors tagged along, the feed processing through Pip and reaching Basil and the online mods. 

“WELCOME EVERYONE TO A SPECIAL EPISODE OF THE LET’S FLAY SERIES!” Mouthpiece chanted, his hologram appearing next to the Calypsos and Odie via a surveyor, “TODAY, THE TWIN GODS SHALL BRING DIVINE JUDGMENT TO A HEATHEN! TO THE RAT KING!”

“What’s up, bitches!” Tyreen chirped, throwing a sign and waving at the surveyor, “God Queen Tyreen, here! Ready to deliver the pain and gain some W’s! This is a special treat to our loyal followers, a special LiveScream!”

“Father Troy, here, bringing chaos and mayhem everywhere I go! A special thanks for those thirsty hoes of our Let’s Flay: The Plaything Series!” Troy cackled out, smacking Odie’s hand who attempted to put bunny ears on him, “What better way to celebrate than by storming into a heathen’s base of operations?”

“THE FANATICS HAVE BEGUN STORMING THE RAT KING’S BASE, THE TWIN GODS DELIVERING SALVATION!” Mouthpiece announced, “GLORY TO THE CALYPSOS!”

While the Calypsos chatted to the surveyor, Odie retreated, ordering the other armed cultists to march forward, “LETS GIVE THEM HELL! GO, GO, GO!”

“FOR THE CALYPSOS!” All forces rushed forward, guns blazing and bandit technicals breaking through barriers. The Fanatics were fighting off the Rat bandits, turrets from defense towers raining bullets at everyone, no distinction between the CoV and the Rat bandits. Alarms and airhorns were going off, more Rat bandits pouring out from the side bunkers of the stronghold.

“Damn, gunning down their own huh?” Odie mused, taking out his sniper rifle, steadying his aiming, “Can’t be having that, no fun at all!” He shot at the bandits manning the turrets, destroying the weapons at the same time. 

He whistled, patting the sniper rifle, “Gotta give my thanks to the little brother for this, god damn, high caliber damage!” The barrel of the sniper rifle had an engraving of ‘Annoying Asshole.’

“Odie!” 

Odie turned around, seeing the Calypsos walking up towards him, the surveyors following behind. He waved, grinning.

“The red carpet has been rolled out for the Twin Gods,” Odie said, bowing, gesturing at the blood-soaked ground, body parts flying around, guns and explosions sounding off. The Calypsos smirked, walking past him and into the fray. Tyreen extended her Siren hand up, activating her powers.

Several of the Rat bandits screamed, their bodies freezing up, turning to husks and purple crystals sprouting from their decaying corpses as the energy divided into the remaining CoV Fanatics and armed cultists. 

“TEAR THIS PLACE APART!” Tyreen shouted, “SEARCH FOR THE RAT KING!” The struggling Rat bandits pushed back but were overwhelmed, the Fanatics having them as easy pickings as the armed cultists broke into the stronghold’s bunker doors, the Calypsos following.

They were met with more artillery fire and heavier manpower, Rat bandit Goliaths descending down from upper platforms, clashing with the armed cultists.

“THE RAT KING SHALL FALL!” the armed cultists chanted, intermingled with screams and war cries as more Rat bandits rushed out from their hiding places. 

“DOWN WITH THE HEATHEN!” Mouthpiece shouted via the surveyors, “DESTROY ALL THOSE WHO DON’T BOW TO THE TWIN GODS!”

Odie laughed, pummeling a Rat marauder bandit, throwing them aside, “Fuck, should have brought my boys with me! This is a fucking carnival ride!”

The Calypsos walked through the ensuing battlefield, ignoring the splashes of blood, the armed cultists rolling about with the Rat bandits, the Fanatics tearing apart the Goliaths, and Odie jumping on top of a turret and shooting down at the incoming wave of Rat bandits.

Pure mayhem.

Pure chaos.

Pure bloodshed.

The perfect LiveScream.

A red surveyor played around with a CoV one, bumping into it several times, chirping. 

“Trinity…” Troy growled, Tyreen hissing at the sight of the surveyor.

“Calypsos…” a gruff, raspy voice rang from the intercoms suspended from the ceiling, “So far away from home…. Allow me to bestow upon you a welcoming gift….”

Several large crates were thrown in from an opening in the ceiling by Rat bandits, piling up and landing on several armed cultists and enemy bandits. Gunpowder poured out onto the ground from the broken crates. With a dynamite in hand, a Rat psycho chucked it down, laughing. 

“SHIT! EVERYONE GET TO COVER!” Odie shouted at the sight of the dynamite.

The twin’s eyes widen, Troy freezing up. Tyreen dragged him down as a group of armed cultists jumped over them. A fiery explosion set off, the ground shaking and the walls crumbling down around them.

Troy felt his body on fire.

\-------000000000-------

Screams, gunfire, and explosions caught Leto’s attention as she laid on bed with the sleeping twins. Tyreen was feeling better after Troy took some of her energy, the boy’s red marks still present on his face. Their mother rushed over to the window, going pale. 

Crimson Lance soldiers had barged into the outpost camp, shooting and setting buildings on fire. The local populace was running around, frantic, getting shot down. 

“N-No!” Leto shouted, waking up the twins.

“Mummy?” Tyreen said, rubbing her eyes. Leto checked her watch, immediately sending out a message.

.:L.C: Hepha! The Crimson Lance are here at the outpost! We are surrounded!

.:H.Juno: Impossible!

.:H.Juno: Get out of there! Now! Go towards the outskirts! 

Leto wanted to scream, she hoped this was a nightmare. She grabbed her bag, checking outside.

“W-We have to go! The soldiers are here!” Leto said, helping the twins up with their clothes. They screamed, sobbing as their mother grabbed their hands, dashing to the door. The woman from the reception was there, about to knock.

“You gotta go! They are entering the building, quick! Follow me!” the woman said, pushing Leto and the twins down the hallway. Several Crimson Lance soldiers reached the second floor, spotting them.

“HALT! YOU ARE HARBORING ESCAPEES FROM ATLAS!” a soldier shouted, aiming at the woman. She took her gun out, shooting at them. The soldiers returned fire. The twins screamed more, Leto running faster with them. 

“Take this! Go! Now!” the woman threw keys to Leto who caught them, “Move the bed in the room marked on the key, go, go!”

“W-What about you?!” Leto shouted, fumbling with the keys.

“Don’t worry about me! Get out, get the kids out!” the woman pushed her and the twins into a service elevator, “I’ll hold them off!” She pushed the button, sending the elevator down. Leto watched as she disappeared, gunshots drowning off. 

“Mummy…!” the twins wailed, holding on to her. She couldn’t stop shaking, adrenaline barely kicking in as she whisked her children away, finding the room and opening the door. More explosions were heard above them, Leto immediately locking the door and pushing the bed as the woman had instructed. Underneath the furniture was a hatch going underground.

“Step back, I’ll open it,” Leto said, the twins obeying. They watched their mother lift the hatch, a deep void staring back at them. Leto rummaged through the nightstands, finding a flashlight. 

“Come on, in we go…” Leto said, pushing Troy and Tyreen to go down the visible ladder, the Siren Calypso holding the flashlight down. Once they were on the lower level, Leto pushed the bed, crawled underneath and tried to squeeze in, barely managing to fit. 

The family found themselves inside the sewers, the putrid smell unbearable. They all covered their noses, running along the edges of the wastewater, hugging the walls. Leto checked her watch, cursing that there was no signal to send a message out. They kept going, the faint noises of explosions still audible in their location.

We were so close, Leto thought, so close to freedom!

Down the tunnel they were walking on, at the end, faint light from the stars flooded in.

An exit.

Leto and the twins sped up, reaching the tunnel’s main drain out into the wastes. A glimmer hope swelled up in Leto as she helped her children out of the drain, happy for once to see giant scraps of metal debris. From their location, pillars of smoke and fire lit up the night sky.

“Fire…” Tyreen whispered, Troy gulping. Leto grabbed their hands, pulling them away from the area. She had to get them out of there. 

Even if it cost her life.

\-----000000------

Troy was familiar with living at death’s mercy, his life constantly in a dance with the entity. He depended on his sister and the blood rituals to survive. He longed for the day he could be free from those constraints.

“Troy…”

Troy’s mind begged his lungs to intake air.

“Troy….”

A voice called him out.

“Wake up, Troy….”

Your voice?

“Hang in there, Troy…” It was your voice. You sounded…

Sad? Afraid?

Worried.

You sounded close but far, Troy reached out into the darkness. He tried screaming for you, but nothing came out. A flash of a tattered ragdoll with the white dress and red flowers crept up in his mind.

Red carnations.

He never recalled seeing the doll in his life.

\-----000000------

Troy opened his eyes, holding Tyreen tight in his arms. She was crouching, covering her ears, the ringing of the explosion hitting them hard. The tall Calypso looked up, noticing several Fanatic Goliaths shielding them.

They had taken the hit from the main explosion. 

Their skin was sizzling from the intense heat, but Troy noticed something peculiar.

The Fanatic Goliaths were healing. But they were reacting to Tyreen’s Siren tattoos. 

He could see light purple swirls mimicking Tyreen’s marks on the left side of their bodies. 

“Father Troy!” Odie shouted, jumping down from the upper platform, covered in soot, “Shit, shit! Fuck, I’ve already called reinforcements, fuck!” Tyreen took a deep breath, her brother letting go of her.

“T-That fucker!” Tyreen screeched, “I can’t wait to get my hands on him!” 

“Easy there, God Queen. Rat bastards just dumped gunpowder on us, we can’t tread on guns blazing right now…” Odie said, looking around, seeing the debris crushing the first wave of CoV forces, “Shit…”

“T-Troy, are you okay?” Tyreen asked, “Y-You froze up…” She immediately checked his back. 

Troy nodded, “I’m fine… my back is intact…” He reached behind him, sighing in relief. The Fanatic Goliaths stepped aside, giving the twins space. Tyreen marveled at the resilience of the cultists, feeling her powers amplifying near their presence.

“This serum…” Tyreen whispered, lifting her Siren hand up, “…I can feel it reacting to my marks…” 

The back-up forces entered, Odie immediately stopping them from venturing further, “Refrain from shooting in this main area, we got gunpowder in the air and the ground! I want three groups to enter the hallways, shoot anyone on sight, PRONTO!” The armed cultists with several Fanatics split via the hallways, hollering and shouting. More surveyors entered, one of them approaching the Calypsos and Odie.

“We are still live on the EchoNet,” Pip’s voice came through, “I have sent over a little something I worked on with the plaything, make sure to keep it close when the time comes.” An armed cultist ran inside, carrying a metal chest, darting to the twins and Odie.

“Prophet Pip sent this!” the cultist shouted, putting the metal chest down and unlocking it, revealing two guns and a large green capsule container. Tyreen knelt down, picking up a black shotgun with the words “EAT THIS” engraved with red on the barrel. Flame decals decorated the body of the ammo case, a little bomb charm placed on the side with a “:3” face.

“What are these?” Tyreen asked, viewing the gun’s specs on her EchoNet. Odie picked up the other gun, a black assault rifle with purple, rigid lines wrapping around the barrel. A bayonet was attached underneath, coated with a dripping, corrosive-like substance. The words “Tis A Flesh Wound” are engraved near the gun’s sight.

“Shit, Perseus made this?” Odie checked the gun, amazed. Tyreen narrowed her eyes, unsure about the shotgun she was holding. Troy retrieved the capsule from the case, wondering about the use of it.

“Yes, but the plaything made some modifications. I had a hunch that we might have to deal with those pesky Jesters,” Pip informed, “Think of these as Anti-Jester guns, you’ll see how they work out. Don’t worry, she doesn’t know about... you know.” Tyreen’s powers not working against the Jesters, a source of anguish for the God Queen.

Odie and Tyreen digistructed their guns away while Troy held the capsule, “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? And don’t make a stupid joke, Odie!” The man snickered, biting his lip.

“The plaything said you could add it to your blade or mechanical arm, if you wanted, to use a more hands-on approach against the Jesters,” Pip said, signaling at the ports on Troy’s arm, “I’d like to see how that would work on your arm though…. But of course, its up to you!” The medic general chuckled, the surveyor flying above the Calypsos and Odie. 

/You don’t trust her anymore./ Troy eyed the capsule, then at his mechanical arm. You had serviced his arm several times, never his blade, therefore, you’d be more familiar with the constructs of it. Tyreen glanced at him then at the item, Odie waiting on them. 

“Run back and tell Mouthpiece to hurry up with the back-up surveyors!” Odie ordered the armed cultist who rushed back out. 

“Troy, decide now,” Tyreen said, looking at one of the main corridors, “We have to find the Rat King.”

/You don’t trust her anymore./ He trusted you. When it came to mechanic or robotic work, you’d never sabotage anything. It wasn’t part of your nature. If you had created this item with his arm or blade in mind, it was to benefit Troy.

He inserted the capsule into one of the ports in his arm, the liquid mixing in with the coolant. A tingling sensation went from the nerve connectors towards his body, giving him a small high. He clenched and released his mechanical fist, feeling the apparatus lighter, a small purple glow emanating from the plates above his mechanical hand. 

“Ready?” Tyreen asked, Odie looking at his mechanical arm with great curiosity. Troy grinned, nodding, “Yeah. Let’s go…”

“My God Queen, Father Troy, the other scout groups have cornered the Rat King into one of the lower levels, sending you a new route for you to take!” Mouthpiece radioed in, “Basil has called in activity in the chats by the Unknown User!”

Master.

He was indeed watching.

For the moment, he didn’t matter.

The Rat King was trapped.

\------0000000-------

They were trapped. No matter where they went, the wastes was littered with Crimson Lance soldiers and their convoys. Desperate, Leto hid the twins in a nearby debris pile, kissing them on the foreheads in an effort to calm them down. 

“No matter what happens, stay here until the soldiers are gone? Okay?” Leto ordered, tears falling on her cheeks. 

“Mummy… don’t go…!” the twins pleaded, grabbing her hands. Tyreen placed the ragdoll in their mother’s coat pocket, to keep her company.

“I’ll be back, I need to find a safe route… I’ll send a message to Mr. Hepha…” Leto whispered, pulling away as Troy hugged Tyreen who was still reaching out to their mother.

Leto hid behind broken concrete pillars, peering around and avoiding the spotlights of the Crimson Lancers. Checking her watch, she tapped out a message, silently praying that the tiny signal was enough to send it through. 

.:L.C: We’re still trapped! We’re in the edges of the waste!

She waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

No response.

“Oh heavens…” Leto muffled her sobs, “P-Please… Hepha… someone respond….”

A ping came through, but not from Hephaestus. She could feel her soul leaving her body.

.:P.Juno: Steele killed my son. She went to the rendezvous point.

Her savior. Her children’s savior.

Was dead.

Dead.

Leto fell to her knees, shaking, frantic, trying to type back a message but she couldn’t muster the strength.

.:P.Juno: Try to head into the marshlands. That’s the only place the Crimson Lance won’t venture to.

The marshlands were on the other side of the wastes, they wouldn’t be able to make it at this rate, but it was their only chance. She tried to respond, screaming when a bullet hit her on the leg. Another struck the watch, breaking it.

“We found her!” a soldier shouted, pointing at Leto. The spotlights of several Lancers converged on and blinded her. Leto shielded herself, hissing out in pain on her bleeding leg. Crimson Lance soldiers circled her, pointing their guns. 

“Where are the kids?!” another soldier shouted.

“Fuck you!” Leto shouted, struggling to stand up, “You won’t get your hands on my children! You and that bitch of Steele!” The soldiers kept their aim on her.

“Tell us where they are, NOW!”

A soldier fired a warning shot, grazing Leto by the arm. She hunched over, shaking. She couldn’t let Atlas get Tyreen and Troy. Five years of torture… never again. Leto took out a gun, keeping it close.

“So that’s how you want to play? We’ll find them without your help then…” a soldier said, cocking their gun, “I’m sure they are not far from here…” Leto hissed, limping forward.

“MUMMY!”

Leto’s eyes widen as two Royal Crimson Lance soldiers, clad in purple gear, appeared, dragging Tyreen and Troy by the arm. Both of them were flailing, screaming.

“NO! NO!” Leto yelled, struggling to stay up, “NO! LEAVE MY CHILDREN ALONE!” 

“Commandant Steele, we found the Calypsos,” one of the Royal Crimson Lance soldiers radioed in, “Positive identification, we shall eliminate the mother as requested.”

“We have our orders, kill her,” the other royal soldier said, pointing at Leto.

The twins screeched, struggling against the iron grip of the soldiers. Leto screamed, shooting at the soldiers in vain as bullets hit her body, the woman falling forward on the barren wasteland ground, gasping for air.

Troy and Tyreen ceased their struggling, eyes wide in horror at their mother’s state. Leto, barely alive, tried to lift her head, meeting her children’s gaze.

“R-Run…. My children…..”

Her face was covered in blood, contrasting with her blue eyes that she shared with her children. Her black hair, matted with the substance, caked with the dirt, stuck to her face.

“Mummy….” Tyreen whispered, reaching out with her Siren hand, “N-No….”

Troy screeched, kicking at the royal guard who let go of him. He ran to his mother, sobbing and shaking her. 

“THEY KILLED MUMMY! THEY KILLED MUMMY!” Troy screamed out, glaring at the soldiers, “YOU WILL PAY!” He extended his arm, the red bands glowing bright.

“Watch out! Neutralize him!” a soldier shouted.

“You idiots! We need him alive!” another yelled. This didn’t deter several of them to shoot, a bullet landing on Troy’s chest and neck.

“Wha-“ Troy fell backward, clutching at his neck.

“Troy… Mummy….” Tyreen went into shock, breathing heavily. The soldier’s grip on her tightened. More shouting, orders barked were tuned out by the little girl. Time slowed down as she gazed at her mother and brother, a pool of blood appearing underneath them.

“Mummy….?” Leto was unresponsive.

“Troy…?” The boy was shaking, a small sob audible from him.

“Let’s take the girl back!” the Royal Guard Lance ordered, the soldiers filing in formation, retreating back to the Lancers. Tyreen was dragged by the royal guard, unable to move.

Red.

Red.

That’s all she saw. 

The Atlas red. The Atlas that the pale monster worked for. Tyreen and Troy’s cage. 

She was being taken back to the cage.

Tyreen screamed, her Siren tattoos flaring as a pair of purple, glowing wings sprouted from her back. The soldiers stumbled about, surprised. She punched the guard grabbing her, the metal melting under her touch. Garbled screams were heard from inside the suit, the soldier collapsing, giant purple crystals piercing through the armor. 

“C-Commandant Steele! The chi-“

Tyreen screeched, delivering a shockwave, extending the purple wings out, evaporating the soldiers on sight, their life-energy absorbed into her body. The move proved to be too draining at the same time, Tyreen keeling over and throwing up. She gasped out, tears stinging her eyes. Her wings disintegrated, leaving her body glowing purple before phasing out.

“Mummy….” Tyreen cried out, her body aching, hot. She started to cry, running towards Leto and Troy. Her throat was burning alongside her Siren tattoos. The little girl knelt down, panicking, grabbing their mother’s hand. Their mother weakly looked at her.

“Run… Run….” Leto whispered out, “I love you Ty… Troy….” Her grip on Tyreen’s hand loosened, the Siren Calypso wailing. She tried to channel her energy into her mother but it was rejected. She tried again.

Again. 

And again. 

The sound of vehicles approaching snapped Tyreen out of her trance. Sobbing, she checked on Troy’s wound, healing it as best as she could before helping him stand. Troy was crying, limping forward as they both ran away from the area.

“W-We have to go…. We have to go….” Tyreen said, sobbing, “We have to go little brother…”

\-------00000000--------

Troy cackled as he tore into several Rat bandits that, in vain, attempted to slow down the arrival of the Calypsos into the Rat King’s main chambers. He was using his blade, saving up his mechanical arm’s special effect for the bandit lord. Tyreen skipped over some bodies, giggling as she provided commentary to the surveyors for the LiveScream. 

“Somebody called for the exterminator?” Tyreen giggled, “It’s a fucking infestation all up in here!” She blasted several Rat bandits, grabbing one of them and hoisting them up in the air.

“Wow, you all are ugly up close,” the Siren Calypso sneered, “What should I do with you?”

“Oh, Ty, Ty! Blast him towards me!” Troy called out, holding up his blade like a baseball bat, “Do it!”

“LUNATICS! ALL OF YOU!” the Rat bandit screeched out, struggling in Tyreen’s grip.

The surveyor flew around Tyreen, the Calypso grinning, teeth showing. She looked at the bot, laughing, “Oh boy, alright! Let’s see if Troy can score a homerun with this!” Tyreen activated an orb, blasting it on the bandit’s face. The force sent the bandit flying towards Troy, who swung his blade, decapitating the bandit. The tall Calypso got splashed with blood and guts, his jaws wide open.

“FOUL!” Odie shouted, laughing. 

“PFT, you missed!” Tyreen snickered, popping her knuckles. 

“FUCK!” Troy cackled, swinging his blade around. Several Rat bandits swarmed in the area they were in, guns blazing.

“Oh, looks like we got some new volunteers to be the baseballs!” Odie chirped, pointing at the bandits approaching. Tyreen created another orb, larger than the one before, smirking.

“Nah, I think I’m about to go bowling, should get a strike on this one, eh?” a sinister expression adorned her face. Troy and Odie moved out of the way, the surveyor ascending higher for a better angle. Tyreen launched the blast, gleefully laughing when it struck the bandits, burning and turning them into husk, their screams muffled as they crumbled away.

“Aw and she didn’t have to use the little side rail gates!” Troy cooed, earning a punch on his side by Tyreen. He shrugged it off, snickering. Odie clapped, “Bravo, my God Queen!”

A red surveyor flew by them, chirping as it was chased by two CoV surveyors. The sight of the bot infuriated the Calypsos. Troy whistled, the CoV surveyors beeping in acknowledgement as they chased the red bot down towards them. Lifting his blade up, he swung, striking the bot on the flat surface of the blade, sending it flying through a window.

“Homerun!” Odie shouted, mimicking a crowd cheer, “The crowd goes wild! Woo!” The CoV surveyors chirped, dancing around Tyreen who was clapping. 

“Sick swing! Let’s get a replay on that everyone!” Tyreen said, grinning at the camera. Mouthpiece was heard in the background of the feed, providing commentary on the replay. 

“How close are we?” Tyreen asked Odie, who had one of the surveyors display the stronghold map.

“We have to go this way…” Odie said, marking the location on the map, pinging the EchoNet devices of the Calypsos, “We’re close now.”

“Alright then, I’m itching to try this shit out,” Troy said, hunched over, leading the way. Tyreen and Odie followed, unaware of a figure staring at them from the broken window the red bot was hit through.

\--------00000000----------

“P-Please… anyone…” Tyreen begged, struggling to carry Troy, “Please… anyone….” She stumbled forward, both her and Troy curling up on the ground, the hot dirt inflicting more pain.

“Please… anyone… help us…” Tyreen begged again, holding Troy’s hand, feeding him energy, “Help us…” She couldn’t recall passing out, waking up, and passing out again. She grew fearful every instance, thinking that Troy wouldn’t be next to her. 

“Anyone… please…” she whispered, tears falling, “Mummy…”

Footsteps approached them, people murmuring over them. She looked up weakly, crying.

A psycho was staring down at her, head tilted in curiosity, “This small meatbag is crying salt! For the wound!” A pair of bruisers and several marauders were behind him, cautiously looking on.

“Help…” Tyreen said, quiet, “Help… please…” Her throat was parched dry, talking increased the pain.

“What is going on here?!” a voice shouted from behind the group, parting the bandits as a large figure approached the twins and the psycho. The latter pointed at Tyreen, giggling, “Small meatbags, ma’am.” 

Tyreen caught a glimpse of a woman with a muscular build, wearing bulky clothes, a grey jacket with large collar with white lining and black buttons hanging off her shoulders, the inside of the jacket visible, red feather lining covering the area. She was chewing on a piece of straw, her semi-curly red hair and blue eyes striking her odd from the bandits behind her, even with the numerous scars that were visible on her arms and face.

“Holy shit, children, in the middle of nowhere?!” she shouted, kneeling down, “W-What happened?”

“Soldiers… our mummy…” Tyreen reached out, her other hand still holding Troy’s, “Help..”

The woman looked at Troy, horrified of his blood state, “Fuck, fuck… Hey! Quick, get the kids! Alert the medic!” She picked up Tyreen, the psycho picking up Troy.

“Yes, ma’am!” 

The woman held Tyreen protectively as she and the other bandits made their way back to their camp, everyone congregating at the entrance due to the commotion. The little girl whimpered, “My brother.. bullet..”

“Shh, it’s okay kid, I’ll have my medic look at him,” she said, going inside a tent where another psycho was waiting, “Boy has a bullet, check him asap, Jackal.” The psycho holding Troy came in, placing the boy on the operating table. 

Jackal removed his mask, eyes wide, “Kids?! Where did you find them!?” The woman growled, “Enough talk, get to it!” She placed Tyreen in an adjacent table, grabbing gauze and other medical supplies.

Troy coughed, blood oozing from his mouth. Tyreen sobbed out, choking as she weakly reached out to her brother, grabbing his hand. The woman and Jackal stepped back when Tyreen’s Siren tattoos glowed, flaring and feeding more energy to Troy. 

“Neck.. bullet…” Tyreen said, passing out. Troy cried, tightening his grip on Tyreen’s hand. 

“S-She…” Jackal stuttered, pointing at Tyreen.

“She’s a Siren….” the woman finished, slightly horrified. 

Had luck or doom struck the woman’s camp?

\----0000000000--------

Troy kicked the metal doors down, the Fanatics and several armed cultists pouring into the large, main hall of the Rat King’s lair. Tyreen stepped inside, Troy and Odie standing next to her.

Ways away, by a suspended platform and sitting on a metal throne, was the Rat King, looking down at them. He was resting his chin on his hand, a red surveyor perched on the lap, being pet by his other free hand.

“Took you long enough,” the Rat King said, pushing the red surveyor off, “Liked my welcoming gift?”

“Wasn’t a one-hit wonder,” Troy said, slamming his blade on the ground, “You have nowhere to go, Rat face.”

The Rat King chuckled, “How amusing, the little brat thinks he has a bloody chance against me?” The red surveyor chirped, taking flight and heading towards the Calypsos. Tyreen smacked it out of the away, hissing.

“How about you come down here and I’ll show you how this little brat can pack a punch!” Troy shouted, snarling. The Rat King laughed, amused.

“I hope you have enough to back-up that bark little skag,” the Rat King said, “Pity the fucking Jester didn’t finish the job back at my other stronghold.”

Troy unhinged his jaws, roaring, eyes wide. This further excited the Rat King who laughed harder, “Everyone saw you fall, Troy Calypso!”

“Shut your mouth!” Tyreen shouted, stepping forward, Siren tattoos flaring uncontrollably, “You and that piece of shit of Master will pay for messing with us!”

“Hahaha, you couldn’t even use your powers against the Jester, what makes you think you can land a hit on me?” the Rat King stood up, throwing aside his coat, displaying injectors on his skin, several vials are seen protruding from under his skin, “I got a new set-up just for this moment….” 

The red surveyor flew back to the Rat King, chirping in delight, small wires protruding off and connecting to jacks on the back of the bandit lord’s head. 

“Unfortunately, this will take a while, but don’t worry, I have several friends that want to meet you all…. Hahahah….” the Rat King snapped his fingers, smirking. The Calypsos and their CoV army stumbled about as the center of the room opened to reveal underground platforms rising up. The platform revealed three Jesters, all of them laughing and clawing at the cage that contained them.

“Shit… So those fucking assholes are here too ….” Troy said, eyeing the small group of Fanatics their forces possessed. Only a handful remained and exhaustion was evident on them. 

“Let the Fanatics deal with them… our focus is the Rat King ….” Tyreen hissed out, growing angrier. 

The Rat King chuckled, then cackled out, extending his arms out, “You pathetic fools, you think I didn’t know you were coming over?! Attacking my stronghold and now this?! It’s fucking obvious SHE sent you this way!”

You.

“Damn, she really IS popular,” Odie chuckled, earning a glare from the Calypsos.

“We want to play!” the Jesters pleaded to the Rat King, “Let us play!” One of the Jesters broke down, wailing, while the other two started to headbutt the glass cage, blood smearing from their foreheads. 

“WE WANT TO PLAY!” One of them screeched, head twitching erratically. The armed cultists grew fearful at the sight, keeping their defensive stance. The Calypsos were as well, but remained determined. They couldn’t show any sign of weaknesses, especially on a LiveScream.

“If you insist,” the Rat King snickered, pressing a button on a remote he was holding, “Enjoy!”

The glass cage collapsed, two of the Jesters stumbled forward, gleefully reaching out, laughing, “Let’s play!” Their straightjackets were covered in dry red spots, teeth marks, and pieces of entrails. 

“EVERYBODY LOOK ALIVE! GET THEM!” Odie shouted, pointing at the Jesters, “FILL THEM WITH LEAD!” The armed cultists immediately shot, the Jesters met with a rain of bullets, screeching out in pain. 

“IT HURTS! IT HURTS!” they shouted, falling to the ground, their skins pierced by the bullets, blood and guts flying everywhere, “IT HURTS! MASTER! IT HURTS!”

The remaining Jester, wailing and still in the cage, started to scream, “MASTER THEY ARE BEING TOO LOUD! MASTER!”

“You fucking assholes, get your fucking asses up!” the Rat King hissed out, snarling, “Don’t make me bring HIM in!”

“If its your little shit of friend Master, then bring him in!” Troy shouted, running past the wounded Jesters, swinging at the Rat King on his throne. The bandit lord laughed when Troy struck an invisible barrier, pushing the Calypso backwards. Troy attempted again, only to be repelled. 

“Hahahaha! I told you they’d be the ones to play with you! Be patient Father Troy!” the Rat King hollered, whistling. Tyreen’s eyes widen when the two wounded Jesters struggled to get up, skin and flesh hanging, bones visible. One of them hopped on one leg, the other leg barely hanging on.

“What the fuck…..!” Odie said, disgusted. Troy stepped back, eyes wide, slightly shaking. The Jester that had been crying was hunched over him, pupils dilated large, gleefully smiling, sharp row of teeth visible.

“Hi,” the Jester said, “I want to play.”

“Fuck-“ Troy managed to dodge a punch, rolling out of the way as the Rat King laughed maniacally, enjoying the spectacle. The Jester got on all fours, started to chase after Troy. Armed cultists shot again, several Fanatic psychos rushed forward, barreling into the Jester. This angered the Jester, grabbing some of the psychos, tearing them limb by limb. 

“Fucking shit!” Odie shouted, digistructing the assault rifle that Pip had delivered, “EVERYBODY REGROUP! GOLIATHS GO FORWARD!”

The two wounded Jesters screeched, their wounds closing up, meeting the fists of the Fanatic Goliaths, a clash ongoing. The armed cultists regrouped, shooting once again at the two Jesters. The creatures were unfazed by the bullets, focusing their attention on the Goliaths, exchanging punches. 

“Troy! Heavy fire coming in!” Odie yelled, aiming, and shooting at the Jester. Troy cursed, dodging out of the way while the Jester was met with gunfire from Odie. The Jester jumped, using the upper platforms of the chamber to avoid the bullets. 

“AHAHAHAHAHAH! YES, KEEP RUNNING AROUND! KEEP RUNNING!” The Rat King screamed out, spit flying everywhere, “TEAR THEM APART! TEAR THOSE FUCKERS APART! BRING ME THE GOD QUEEN’S HEAD!” He pointed at Tyreen who had just digistructed the shotgun in her hand.

The Jester ignored Troy and Odie, immediately looking at Tyreen, lunging forward, screeching.

“TY!” Troy and Odie shouted, horrified. 

Tyreen felt the Jester’s cold hand on her face.

\----000000000------

Tyreen woke up, yelping, scared. Her arms felt stiff, the girl staring down at them. Bandages were covering up her arms, hints of dry blood present. Lost, she looked around, afraid. She was no longer in the Atlas cell but inside a make-shift tent with crates and other furniture pieces decorating the room. The bed she was on was soft, the blankets made of cotton, unlike the itchy wool blankets provided by Atlas. 

“W-Where am I…? T-Troy!” Tyreen jumped off the bed, immediately landing on the ground, curling up in pain, “O-Ow.. Ow!”

Her body ached, her own powers drained due to her emotional state. She crawled, begging her body to ease up. Slowly, she was able to regain control, standing up albeit wobbly. Stepping out of the tent, she was met with bandit activity.

Several psychos and marauders were dancing around a bonfire, singing merry tunes at the beat of an accordion played by a tink that was hanging from a post. A bruiser was cooking fresh meat on a spit, turning it over a small fire not too far from the main bonfire. She froze on her spot, shaking. She had never seen bandits up close.

From the fleeting memories of life before Atlas, she only remembered a village with nice people that knew her mother, Troy and her. The soft grass under her feet, the giggles and her mother’s smiles…

….

 

…..

 

…..

 

…..

Her mother was dead. Gunned down.

The villagers were dead. Set on fire.

By Atlas. 

At the command of the pale monster. 

Steele.

Tyreen screamed, causing panic within the bandits.

“S-Shit! Someone call the boss! Pronto!” a marauder shouted, everyone visibly scared of the Siren Calypso. A psycho took off running, the remaining bandits at bay, staying away from Tyreen.

“Where is my brother?!” Tyreen screeched, her Siren tattoos flaring uncontrollably, “TROY! TROY!” The boy being struck by a bullet on his neck was burned into Tyreen’s mind.

“E-Easy there little miss… we don’t want any trouble….” A bruiser said, cautiously approaching Tyreen, “T-The boss will help you…”

“TROY!” Tyreen screamed, ignoring the bruiser’s plea, tears streaming down her face. The psycho returned with another group, the woman from earlier among them, rushing forward.

“B-Boss, the Siren kid is awake, s-she’s asking for that other kid!” the marauder pointed at the visibly agitated Tyreen.

The girl had ceased her yelled, only sobbing in her spot. The woman sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“You lot are scared of a brat? How are you all still alive!” the woman shouted, all the bandits standing in formation, “She just woke up in the middle of a bandit camp!” Tyreen hiccupped, wiping her face. She whimpered when the woman got near her.

The woman knelt down, looking at Tyreen at eye-level, “Hello, little one. You sure have made a ruckus in my camp, did my merry band of idiots scare you?” She smiled. The bandits watched, curious.

Tyreen got a hiccup fit, nodding, “My brother….” She needed to find Troy. The woman’s gaze softened, reached out to pat Tyreen’s head. The little girl felt more at ease with the woman around, leaning to the touch. 

“Your brother is resting from the operation as you should be as well. You had a lot of cuts on your arms,” the woman said, gesturing at Tyreen’s bandages, “Scrapping on the ground, we got those wounds cleaned.”

“But my brother…” Tyreen protested, fidgeting in her spot. The woman gave her a stern look, the Siren Calypso looking away.

The look reminded her of her mother when she and Troy would get in trouble.

“How about I tuck you in? It’s still late, I promise to bring you to your brother after you rest,” the woman said, standing up, holding her hand out to Tyreen. The girl sniffed, grabbing the woman’s hand, being led back inside the tent. She quickly glanced back at the bandtis who were now going back to the bonfire and restarting their music.

The woman picked up Tyreen with no trouble, setting her on the bed, the girl crawling over to lay her head on the pillow. The woman pulled up the blankets, patting the fabric down. Tyreen felt weird, out of place but comfortable. She was used to this ritual back at Atlas, her mother tucking her and Troy in the lone bed in the cell. 

Tyreen glanced at the rocking chair in the tent, a brief flashback of Leto sitting on it to keep watch on the twins while they slept. 

“Your brother is doing fine, he’ll be okay,” the woman whispered, petting Tyreen’s head. The little girl sniffed, nodding, “Okay…”

The woman placed a soft kiss on her forehead, smiling, “I’ll be around, just kick one of my subordinates on the shin and I’ll come by running.” She grinned, Tyreen giggled. 

The woman’s grin reminded Tyreen of a cat’s grin from one of the children’s book Leto would read to her and Troy.

A cat-like grin.

\--------0000000----------

Tyreen felt light as a feather, floating in the dark void. 

She couldn’t move. She begged her body, but it refused her command. 

“Tyreen…”

The Siren Calypso’s eyes darted around, searching for the source of the voice.

“Move…”

She tried again, but nothing. 

“Tyreen…”

The voice grew closer to her. It sounded familiar.

“Move, you need to move…”

You.

She searched again, desperate. She deeply inhaled when she felt someone behind her, their warm body touching her cold one, hands grabbing her own.

“You need to move…” 

It was you, she was sure of it. She couldn’t turn around, but she recognized the marks and scars on the hands. The same hands she enjoyed kissing, worshipping. 

“MOVE!”

A wave of red drowned her.

\-------000000000--------

Tyreen felt the wet splash of blood hit her, the bony hand grabbing her face hanging in place. The Jester screeched out in pain, touching the gaping hole on its chest and missing limb. In Tyreen’s hand, the “EAT THIS” shotgun was covered in guts, the meat sizzling on the barrel. 

“Eat this… YOU SHIT!” Tyreen shouted, blasting again, stepping forward, whipping her head to throw off the Jester’s hand. The creature howled in pain, stumbling backwards, squirming and twisting. Odie aimed his assault rifle, shooting from the side. Their guns overheated, allowing Troy to jump in and punch, crush the Jester’s head with his mechanical arm, the capsule effect kicking in. The Calypsos and Odie saw the Jester’s body begin to rot, Troy’s mechanical arm dripping a corrosive substance. 

“GET UP! GET UP YOU PIECES OF SHIT!” the Rat King shouted, slamming his fist on his throne. The red surveyor beeped angrily, shocking the bandit lord as it tried to finish setting up the serum. Furious, the Rat King smacked it out of the way, sending the bot flying, hitting the wall, destroying it. The last message on the screen was a “: ( X_X.”

“USELESS! ALL OF YOU!” the Rat King hissed out, seeing the other two Jesters pummeled by the Fanatic Goliaths, a Goliath enraged and tearing the limbs of the Jesters. 

“This is the fucking end for you, Rat bastard!” Tyreen shouted, holding her shotgun, drenched in blood, “You got too greedy motherfucker….”

The Rat King’s face devolved to pure rage as he jumped from the platform, the ground slightly shaking, “You fucking bitch…!”

“Its over! Surrender now and we won’t make your fucking death painful!” Troy commanded, pointing his blade at him.

“To think.. that you fucking assholes are doing her dirty work….” the Rat King hissed out, hunched over, growling, “I should have broken her fucking legs…. Now that fucking asshole is going gaga over finding his little pet…”

Troy snarled, aware he was referring to you, “There is no one else to protect you…!” 

“I don’t need anyone….” The Rat King spat out, head twitching, pupils dilating, large, “With this… going through my body… I should be able… to… destroy you…”

“Fuck, is he going under the serum effect?” Odie asked, steadying his assault rifle. Tyreen checked her shotgun, “Seems like it, shit.”

“Bring it on!” Troy taunted, popping his jaws open, roaring. 

The Rat King was breathing heavily, panting, before clawing at his skin. He punched into the ground, his arms bulking up in size, allowing him to tear up the flooring, lifting it up and throwing it at Troy. The Calypso roared, using his blade to slice through the concrete slab. 

“Must.. kill…!” The Rat King screeched out, throwing more pieces of concrete. Troy dodged several, getting closer to the bandit lord, Tyreen and Odie dashing on the side to shoot. The man hissed out, pounding the ground, sending up a dust cloud to cover the chambers. 

“Shit, shit, he’s blocking our vision!” Odie shouted, “Don’t attack aimlessly!” Several screams of CoV armed cultists and Fanatics were heard, the tearing of flesh and crushing of bones reaching the ears of Odie. 

“Troy! Tyreen!” Odie looked around frantically. He took a few steps back, maintaining his cool when he bumped into something. Quickly turning around, Odie fell backwards, gasping. 

A grey-skinned, shirtless man, wearing black pants, black spiked gauntlets, barefoot stood there, unfazed by the general’s presence. The man’s green eyes were not his most striking feature, but a silver collar with a chain coiled around his neck, the end with a small spiked ball. His head was shaved entirely, for the exception of a lone, low ponytail.

An upside-down triangle shape had been burned into the man’s head, above his ponytail.

Trinity.

“What the fuck are you…?” Odie asked, standing up. 

The man glanced at the general, glaring. Odie then noticed what the man was holding. 

A Fanatic Goliath’s head.

\-------000000000--------

“I can’t seem to wrap my head around on the concept that we have a little Siren in our camp!” the woman said, raising her arms up, “Its no fucking coincidence!”

Jackal scratched his head, “Well, ask them what happened! Its not every day we have kids showing up on our territories. Especially with a bullet on their neck.” He gestured at the adjacent room in the run-down, makeshift infirmary wing. 

Tyreen was curled up next to Troy, both her and her brother asleep. She was feeding him energy, speeding up his recovery from the operation he had. Jackal had managed to dislodge the bullet, stitching up the wound, but placed a medical collar to prevent the boy from scratching his stitches. To his and the woman’s surprise, Troy was not skittish with medical equipment.

“Or with a mechanical arm… that craftsmanship is very advance to be from a simple villager,” the woman observed, furrowing her eyebrows, “I don’t pass it on Atlas to have meddled with them.”

“Doesn’t this spell trouble for us? If they are somehow involved with Atlas?” Jackal asked, worried. It was no secret that Atlas would attack bandit camps, take them as prisoners, never to be seen again. The inhabitants of the wastes were the remains of a mixture of Dahl and Atlas wars for control of the planet, the latter being victorious. 

“Atlas knows better than to mess with me,” the woman growled out, placing a hand on her gun in the holster, “Or with the Terror of the Waste, we both control this region, they’d be foolish to attack.”

“Always ruthless, El Capitan,” Jackal said, eyeing the twins, “What are you going to do with them?”

“They have nowhere else to go, they might as well stay,” El Capitan said, crossing her arms, sighing. Jackal gawked, surprised.

“Don’t tell me you are going to raise them?” Jackal asked.

“Of course! Not going to dump them on you or anyone else. Heck, you and your partner aren’t even together, don’t you have a little psycho running around in one of my other camps?” El Capitan shot back. Jackal huffed, looking away.

“Whatever, you don’t seem the maternal loving type to begin with,” Jackal hissed out. No bandits were, it was the tough life of their kind. 

The twins arose from their sleep, chatting up a storm, begging for food. El Capitan got up, venturing inside their room, signaling to Jackal to retrieve the request. 

“Hello little ones,” El Capitan said, smiling, “How was your sleep?”

“Good,” the twins answered, rubbing their eyes. Troy and Tyreen had been given baths and dressed up in fresh clothes, the remains of the crying, dirtied children long gone. El Capitan petted Troy’s head, the boy content while Tyreen curiously watched the bandit lord.

“Who are you?” Tyreen asked, Troy nudged her on the side, “Ow…”

El Capitan chuckled, giving Troy a stern look as well, “I’m Pleione, but I’m known as El Capitan around here, you and your brother were found outside one of my camps.”

“Oh…” Tyreen said, looking down, fidgeting with her shirt, “….”

“Tyreen, was it?” Pleione asked, “Troy?” The children perked up at their names, nodding. Pleione brought up a chair, sitting by the bed.

“Little ones, do you remember what happened? Of how you got out here in the wastes?” the bandit lord asked, keeping her voice calm. Tyreen froze, lips quivering while Troy grabbed her hand, also getting agitated.

“Our mummy…” Troy tried to talk, choking a bit due to the stitches, tears coming up, “Our mummy is dead…”

Pleione held back a gasp, frowning at the revelation, “Your mother? Were there others?”

Tyreen whimpered, throwing herself towards Pleione, her brother following suit. The bandit lord caught them, hugging them tight. The twins didn’t cry, but sought comfort. 

They had lost their mother. 

“Shh… its okay, you’re safe here,” Pleione said, rubbing their backs, noticing Troy’s spine connector, “You’re going to be okay.”

Jackal came back in with a tray filled with fresh, cooked meat and water, setting them down by a table opposite from the bed, “Food’s here.” He stared at Pleione with the children, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Thanks, I’ll take it from here,” Pleione said, the children hiding from Jackal in her massive jacket, “Oh, he won’t hurt you, that’s Jackal. He helped Troy get better.”

The twins waved, then hid back in the jacket. Jackal snorted, waving back before leaving the tent. Once the man left, the twins came out from their hiding place, eyeing the food. Pleione helped them out of the bed, chuckling as the twins rushed over to the table, sitting and serving themselves. 

“Alright, make sure to eat slowly. Troy, chew carefully-hey, don’t be fighting for that piece, there’s enough for everyone!” Pleione said, watching the quiet children turn full on energetic at the sight of food. The twins scarfed down the food, eager, and humming in contentment.

“I-Its juicy!” Tyreen chirped, “So good!”

“Yeah! And its not dry!” Troy said, munching on a piece of meat. Pleione observed them, sighing but amused. It had been ages since there were any kids around in the main camp. All other children were with their parents in other camps. 

Pleione blinked when she felt a piece of meat by her chin. Tyreen held out a piece, grinning, “Eat!”

“Oh, sure,” Pleione chuckled, grabbing the chunk of meat, eating it. The twins approved, resuming their meal. She found it amusing that the twins weren’t scared of her but of her bandits. She kept watching, seeing Tyreen cut meat for Troy, making sure he was chewing correctly and refilling his cup. To the bandit lord, it was obvious Tyreen was the older sibling, looking out for frail boy. She was still curious about the nature of Troy’s mechanical arm and cybernetics, though the boy seemed to ‘function’ with those additions as if normal.

That meant that wherever they came from, the person responsible for creating that had extensive knowledge about robotics and the neurological workings of the body. It screamed of Atlas, especially with the Siren Steele being notorious for trying to exterminate her camps. 

The twins finished their meal, content as they patted their bellies. Pleione stifled a laugh as they compared their full bellies, revealing more Siren marks on their body to the bandit lord. 

“They stretched…” Troy pointed out, “That’s weird.”

“They do…” Tyreen said, “Very weird…” 

Odd children.

“So, you two… are Sirens…?” Pleione asked, kneeling down, observing the marks, “I thought Sirens were only women….” The twins looked at their marks, frowning.

“The pale monster says big sis is a Siren…” Troy said, rubbing his mechanical arm, “Calls me a leech…”

“Pale monster?” Pleione inquired. Were they referring to Steele?

“Scary lady… from Atlas…” Tyreen answered, “She’s mean…”

“I think I know who you are talking about, she’s scary… but don’t worry about her, like I said, you are safe here,” Pleione said, smiling. The twins looked up, eyes wide in wonder. The bandit lord stood tall, her large military jacket casting a radiance of grandeur to the twins. They had never seen someone with a flair of confidence other than ‘mister’ Hephaestus, who would stare down at Steele. 

If El Capitan had that, the twins knew they wouldn’t have to worry about the pale monster.

Their savior, Pleione.

\-------000000000------ 

“Master is insulted you refused his help,” the grey-skinned man said, staring ahead. He tossed the Fanatic Goliath’s head in front of Odie, stepping forward as the dust cloud cleared. Odie managed to get up, holding his assault rifle.

“W-Who are you!?” Odie asked, picking up danger signals from the man.

“Rat King, Master is disappointed in you,” the man continued, staring ahead. Tyreen was holding her shotgun, gasping for air, aiming at the Rat King. Troy had pierced the Rat King’s stomach with his mechanical arm, the bandit lord suffering major body damage from the Siren Calypsos’ shotgun blasts.

“W-What the fuck, he wasn’t in here?!” Tyreen shouted, aiming her shotgun at the man. Troy removed his arm from the Rat King’s body, kicking the bandit lord aside, focusing his attention to the newcomer. The Rat King coughed out, getting on his knees, gagging.

“F-Fucker… you think… you think this is enough to put me down…?” the Rat King hissed out, eyes bloodshot, taking notice of the man, “Damnit… So he called you in..”

The man stopped ways away from the Rat King and Troy, eyes wide, “I’m only here to retrieve what belongs to Master, what happens to you afterwards is no concern for Master and in extension me.” 

“Master… that bastard!” the Rat King growled, getting up, his wound slowly healing up, “That’s if you are able to get it, Brutus.”

“Enough bullshit, we are the ones taking down the Rat King!” Troy shouted, pointing his bloody mechanical arm at Brutus, “Tell Master to shove it up his ass!”

Odie was alarmed at the sudden appearance of Brutus, the man’s aura reeking of extreme danger. Brutus’ demeanor reminded him of your behavior during the last part of the fight with Cetus.

Cold.

Detached.

On the verge of going feral.

It was obvious Brutus had no intentions of getting in the way of the Calypsos, only seeking out the Rat King on Master’s orders. He had to stop Troy and Tyreen from confronting the man.

“HEY! You! Big guy!” Odie yelled, trying to get Brutus’ attention. The man ignored him until a beeping sounded off from collar, only then did he turn around, acknowledging Odie.

“Master wishes to hear your input,” Brutus said, facing Odie, “State it, now.” 

Straight to the point, Odie thought.

“What is it that you are looking for? In the Rat King? We can get it from him and you be done with whatever business you have….” Odie said, hoping Master would listen. If you had been around, maybe, just maybe.

“Odie, we need to finish off this guy!” Troy dodged the Rat King who had recovered, lunging forward at the bandit lord. Tyreen shot several times, hitting the bandit. Brutus remained unfazed with the ongoing fight near him, staring at Odie.

“Master seeks for the return of an item loaned to the Rat King,” Brutus said, robotically, “The Rat King has fallen from Master’s grace.”

Troy punched the Rat King, exchanging blows, several remaining Fanatic psychos pounced on the bandit, further angering the man who attempted to shake them off. Tyreen kept shooting, the shots tearing at more flesh from the Rat King.

“We will get it, in exchange, you let us keep the Rat King!” Odie said, eyeing the ongoing fight. 

More beeping was heard, Brutus remaining quiet, perhaps receiving instructions. The man glanced at the Rat King who was being thrown back by Troy’s punches, the sound of sizzling, melting skin echoing in the crumbled down chamber. 

“…Master wants the gauntlet back, retrieve it, and the Rat King is yours,” Brutus stated, pointing at the Rat King, “I will not interfere.”

Odie celebrated in his mind, nodding, “Deal! Troy, get that gauntlet shit, Rat King will be ours!” Troy hissed, not liking the arrangement, but trusted Odie’s judgment on Brutus. The man had remained in his spot during the talk, acting as if the fight was normal occurrence. You had come from Trinity, if this newcomer did as well, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” the Rat King shouted, almost screeching as he managed to land a hit on Troy who stumbled backwards. Tyreen got close, shot again, but dodged a kick from the bandit lord. Odie whistled for the remaining Fanatic psychos to attack, providing back-up as he shot several times at the Rat King’s arm. 

Troy’s corrosive attack had begun eating at the bandit lord’s flesh faster than what the man was able to heal due to the serum’s effect. With Odie’s shot, the arm with the gauntlet ended up falling apart, pissing off the Rat King who grabbed it with his other remaining hand and attempted to move to an upper platform. 

The Fanatic psychos clung to him, tearing at his exposing flesh, laughing. Brutus did not move from his spot, only observing the fight. Troy landed on the bandit lord’s back, digging his mechanical arm into the man’s back, ripping out several body mods installed. The Rat King fell backwards, squashing Troy.

“TROY!” Tyreen shouted, “GET HIM OUT THERE! NOW!” The amped up psychos managed to pull Troy, others climbing on the Rat King. The bandit lord attempted to reach Troy who was wheezing, keeling over. 

“FUCKER!” Troy hissed out, lunging forward again, punching the Rat King. 

“Tyreen! The shotgun!” Odie called out, the God Queen tossing over the shotgun to him. The general ran up towards the Rat King, shooting the man on the back, causing him to stagger. Troy digistructed his blade, swung upwards, slicing the Rat King’s arm and hand.

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” the Rat King hollered, screaming in pain, holding up his arm, hands and part of the forearm missing. The air reeked of rotting flesh, lead from the shots, heavy of blood. Troy kicked the gauntlet arm towards Odie who caught it, immediately retreating away from the stumbling Rat King. 

The general threw the gauntlet at Brutus, the item landed in front of the man. He merely stared down.

“You got greedy, Rat King. You have abused the good graces bestowed upon by Master,” Brutus said, kneeling down to pick up the severed arm, “It is a pity Her Majesty had to deal with you in her last days.”

This caught the Calypsos’ attention. Odie looked at him, out of breath.

Her Majesty.

The Queen.

You.

What had happened in the Rat King lair’s?

“You fucking asshole… you bastard! With Cepheus dead, you were ready to fucking bail out, right?!” the Rat King growled out, “You little shit… you fucking knew where she was all this time…”

“That is for Master to know, don’t concern yourself for that,” Brutus said, holding the gauntlet, “As per Master’s wishes, the Rat King is yours. I shall take my leave.” He bowed, jumping up on the platforms, exiting through a broken window in the upper levels. A red surveyor had been hovering over, looking inside before retreating with Brutus.

Troy spat out blood, growling, “Now you’re ours you filthy bastard!” The Calypso kicked the Rat King, causing the man to wail in pain. 

“YOU!” kick “PIECE” kick “OF” kick “SHIT!” Troy roared out, punching him on the face with the mechanical arm, more corrosive substance eating at the man’s face. The Rat King laughed, rolling over. Tyreen approached Troy, Odie observing their surroundings.

A small handful of Fanatics remained, few armed cultists came out of their hiding area, the chamber was littered with the corpses of the fallen CoV. Odie knew there would be more dead bodies in the rest of the compound, mixture of cultists and Rat bandits. A CoV surveyor flew in, circling towards Odie. 

“Yo,” Mouthpiece said through the surveyor, “We’re ready for the finale.” Odie sighed, glancing at the Calypsos who were busy beating up the Rat King. He whistled, getting their attention. 

The surveyor flew towards them, beeping, alerting them that the LiveScream was still ongoing.

“WHAT’S UP BANDIDOS!?” Tyreen shouted, raising her arms up, bloody, “SUCCESS FOR THE CHILDREN OF THE VAULT!” She kicked the Rat King again. 

Troy squatted, lifting the Rat King’s head by his hair, “We got the giant rat, the ugliest of them all… Hehehee…” The Rat King spat out blood, hissing, but laughing.

“You think she’s some innocent little shit? Under that false façade… a fucking monster awaits, waiting to tear into flesh…” the bandit lord said, laughing more. He was met with a punch from Tyreen, the Calypso digging her hands into his flesh wounds.

“You speak about her once again and I will rip your tongue out…” Tyreen said, voice low, digging more into the flesh, her Siren tattoos flaring up, boiling the man. His laughter turned into a hoarse shout as he squirmed. 

“Never make the God Queen mad, Rat face,” Troy said, snickering, “Right folks?” He grinned at the surveyor who danced around him and then towards Tyreen. She had a gleeful expression, healing the Rat King and then tearing again into his flesh.

She needed a punching bag.

Master had once again meddled in her affairs. 

“Look at her go! Holy shit!” Troy said, cackling as Tyreen kept going, “The God Queen is passing judgment to the heathen, the Rat King!”

“ALL MUST BOW BEFORE THE GOD QUEEN!” Mouthpiece announced, signaling the end of the LiveScream. Troy let out a sigh, catching up on his breath. Tyreen punched the Rat King before standing up, shaking her hands from the blood.

“Damnit… this was intense,” Troy said, eyeing the squirming bandit lord. Tyreen was agitated, stemming from what Brutus mentioned. Brutus had confirmed he knew you and something had happened here with the Rat King when you escaped. She needed to find out. 

“Odie, any signs of that serum stash from the intel?” Tyreen asked, wiping the blood from her face in vain with her jacket, “We can’t leave here empty handed…”

Another surveyor had flown in, Odie inspecting the map and his EchoNet, “…..Seems like Pip found it….” The general’s tone was worrisome. 

“What now?” Troy asked, clenching his mechanical arm. He could feel it going stiff. 

A low laughter from the Rat King further infuriated the Calypsos.

“You think you own her… give me a break… Master just loaned her to you…. Any time… he could have gone and retrieved her…” the bandit lord coughed out, hoarse voice. 

“Don’t listen to him… Pip found the stash, let’s go,” Odie said, glaring at the Rat King. The Calypsos gave one last kick to the man before following the general out of the chamber, the armed cultists heading towards the fallen bandit to tie him up. 

Odie led them down an adjacent corridor, a surveyor and other armed cultists waiting nearby. A strong rotting smell was present in the air. The Calypsos and Odie noticed the armed cultists were covering their noses, the smell becoming unbearable.

“Took you long enough,” Pip said through the surveyor, “So… I put a camera underneath this… and well… found it, but I suggest you take a deep breath…”

“What are you talking about?” Tyreen said, her sense of smell used to the chamber’s air. 

“You’ll see…” Odie said, slightly aghast. Pip had the surveyor hack into the door, opening in. A repugnant smell escaped the room, overwhelming everyone.

“GAH! What the fuck?! Its like in the warehouse in the Atlas stronghold.. Fuck, more bodies?!” Troy hissed out, covering his nose. Tyreen coughed, gagged as she stepped away.

“Holy shit…” Odie said, staring into the room, his lungs burning up, “Fuck…I thought you were joking…”

“I told you…” Pip said, somewhat amused. The Calypsos and the armed cultists barely recovered, shocked at the contents of the room. 

Large stashes of serum were visible behind a clear wall, filling up more than half of the room. However, what caught their eyes was something else.

In the middle of the room, a concrete wall had been erected, plastered with black/white and colored photos. A corpse was chained to the wall, wearing a bloody white dress with red embroidered flowers, white stains were present in the fabric, the corpse’s legs were broken and twisted. Red lettering was scrawled over the wall and around the body. 

‘My love. My Queen.’

“What… what is this…?!” Tyreen asked, covering her nose, seeing the subject of the photos.

You.

All of the photos were of you. 

Different angles, all of the same subject. Several photos displayed you laughing, smiling, talking to someone, dressed in elegant clothing or a black full body suit, chains visible. Other photos had you in compromising positions, close-ups of your face, and chained up in a dark room, blindfolded. 

Similar to the Jester in the Atlas stronghold.

“Talk about a fucking obsession…!” Odie said, disgusted, “And what’s with the body?!”

Troy stared at the body, more at the dress. Fear crept on him. 

He had never seen the doll in his vision…

But the doll was sporting the same white dress as the corpse.

And red flowers.

**Red carnations.**

Red.

\-------00000000--------

Troy picked up some flowers, bunching them together while Tyreen placed some in her little basket. Pleione was keeping watch over them as the twins gathered more wildflowers, getting ready for the ceremony. Her scouts had return with word about an Atlas skirmish with a nearby bandit camp, razing down a scavenger outpost. Along the way, they found corpses of Crimson Lance soldiers and another body.

Leto.

They had found the twin’s mother.

Her body had been escorted back, the bandit lord checking up on it, shaking her head as the poor state it was found. She had informed the twins about it, but refused to let them see her. At first, they protested, though they eventually gave up. To help with the healing process, Pleione had ordered for the body to be buried. The twins, having divulged about their captive lives, wished for their mother to be buried in an area with flowers. Leto would talk about the garden she had back in their old village, the twins wanted something similar. 

With the wastes struggling to grow a measly piece of grass, Pleione managed to find an area within her territory to bury Leto: the mountain region. From the time she settled in the wastes, plant life seemed to thrive only in that area, nowhere else. Her bandits had dug up a hole, preparing concrete slabs to place over the mound to prevent scavengers from pillaging the body. 

“We got enough.. I think…” Troy said, holding his flowers close. Tyreen approached him, the boy placing the flowers in the basket. The twins ran back towards Pleione, showing her their haul.

“Good job, let’s go, little ones,” Pleione said, patting them on the head. The twins grabbed her hands, the woman leading them down to the spot chosen for their mother’s resting place. Several bandits were mingling nearby, observing. The twins eyed the group, curious.

Their focus switched to the bandits bringing Leto’s body in, setting it carefully in the dug-out pit. Then, they started to cover the body. Pleione bowed her head, the children mimicking her. The other bandits bowed their head in respect, some of them removing their hats. 

Pleione could feel the twins tighten their grip on her hands, small sobs escaping their small bodies. 

“Mummy…” they sobbed. They remained there, watching the grave fill up with fresh soil. Several bruisers began to move the concrete slabs on top, neatly covering it. Pleione nudged the twins forward, Troy and Tyreen carefully placing their hand-picked flowers over the slab, anchoring them down with small rocks. Everyone stood quiet as the twins finished covering the entire slabs with flowers.

The twins placed their left hands on the flower bed, their marks glowing as the flowers began to bloom, gain roots. Gasps and ‘wow’s’ were heard, Pleione stunned at the display. This was the first time any of her bandits had seen ‘Sirens’ up close and get a glimpse of their powers.

Troy and Tyreen finished, stepping back, exhaustion present. They stared at the grave, quietly sobbing more. Pleione, carefully, approached them, resting her hands on their shoulders.

“It’s a nice gesture…” Pleione said, smiling down at the twins.

“….What will happen to us..?” Tyreen asked, looking up at the tall bandit. Troy glanced at the other bandits, nervous. 

“You will be staying with us,” Pleione said, petting their heads, “You have a home with us.” The twins looked at each other, confused. Pleione knelt down, “The world is a harsh place, little ones… Its best to have people to rely on to survive… Would you two like to join us?”

Death awaited them out in the wastes… El Capitan was being merciful.

Troy and Tyreen nodded, hugging Pleione. The woman returned the gesture, staring at her bandits. Their stood erect in attention. The boss had spoken.

The Calypso twins were part of the family.

Their family.

Whether her bandits liked it or not.

“If you want to come visit your mummy, let me know,” Pleione whispered, kissing the foreheads of the twins. The children thanked her, holding her hands. The bandits departed to their vehicles, waiting on Pleione and the twins. Troy and Tyreen said their goodbyes, running back to Pleione who led them back to her bandit technical.

As the convoy left the area, the twins stared back, watching the grave spot disappear, followed by the mountains, finding themselves back in the wastes. Throughout the ride, they remained quiet. Back at camp, they orbited around Pleione, never leaving her side, still wary of the other bandits and even Jackal who’d come by to check up on Troy’s stitches.

Soon, it became a daily routine.

The twins were stuck to the ruthless El Capitan, following her around like little skag pups. It was endearing for some of the bandits but sometimes annoying the bandit lord. How was one to pull an intimidating look if you had a pair of kids following you around? She couldn’t do much, the twins had lost their mother and were sticking close to the one person who saved them. She never had children of her own, bandit life being cruel and unjust to the little ones and those who managed to hit adulthood had to be on the lookout for backstabbers. As much as her bandits feared her, the Calypso twins showed no hint of it, only gratitude. 

Pleione, in turn, tried her best to comfort them, filling the void left behind by the twin’s mother. 

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years, El Capitan watching the little frightful children turn into full-fledge bandits under her watch. It was no secret by then that Tyreen was a Siren, the other bandits worshipping her although El Capitan had enforced a no-talk policy about it outside of camp for Tyreen’s safety. 

Troy, who had been timid, shy around others was boisterous, rowdy and adventurous, picking fights with the other bandits to test out his gadgets and upgrades on his mechanical arm. During the first years with El Capitan, the bandit lord had further taught the boy more about machinery and robotics, showing him her own prosthetic leg and allowing him to experiment on it. Few times, she’d find small rocket projectiles fire off at unfortunate times, courtesy of the boy’s pranks. Despite the headaches he’d induce, El Capitan had grown proud of the boy’s progress, witnessing Troy’s pride possession completed: the Red Blade that worked in conjunction with the tall Calypso’s ‘improved’ mechanical arm.

Tyreen, who had been more vocal, stubborn was now partly shy, but more brutish and confrontative, relishing in scaring the bandits with her Siren powers and soaking in the praises and worships. El Capitan instilled on her to always display a powerful aura and rule with an iron fist on her subjects to keep them in line, “to never kneel for anyone, that was a sign of weakness.” Whenever El Capitan would inspect her outposts, Tyreen would tag along, walking by her side, chin up, proud. To bandits that disobeyed and brought danger to their clan, Pleione would allow Tyreen to practice using the Siren powers. 

Pleione observed the twins who were inspecting a bandit troop, Troy snapping his jaws at several of the bandits, spooking them while Tyreen flashed her Siren tattoos, causing some bandits to straighten up in posture. The swagger in their movements oozed of confidence as they addressed the troops, dismissing the bandits, satisfied of the inspection.

“Well done,” Pleione said, laughing and clapping, “You two are a natural at this.” The twins quickly turned around, faces red.

“Y-You were watching, mum?” Troy asked, a bit shocked.

“Ah, she did!” Tyreen said, hiding her face with her jacket, “I thought you were inside your tent, mum!”

The bandit lord laughed more, smacking them both on the back, “No need to feel embarrassed! Taking initiative is good, I’m not as young as I used to be!” 

“But you’re not that old, bandit kings live forever!” Troy said, approaching her, “Although you are getting shorter each day…” He measured her stature, compared to his own height. The boy had already outgrown both Tyreen and El Capitan. The bandit lord pinched his arm causing Troy to yelp.

“Call me short again you little brat!” she laughed, watching Troy rub his arm. The boy stuck his tongue out, laughing as well. Tyreen hugged Pleione, giggling. 

“Oh, little ones, you will be the end of me,” Pleione said, messing with Tyreen’s hair. The Siren Calypso giggled more, leaning to the touch. A psycho ventured near, removing his mask. It was Jackal, the medic that had patched up the twins when they first arrived.

“Jackal!” Troy shouted, rushing over to the psycho, “Bring it over buddy!” He held out his fist, Jackal indulging him.

“Troy, taunting the Boss about her height again?” Jackal asked, noticing the red mark on the boy’s arm.

“Pft, something like that,” Troy said, grinning, “Soon, she’ll be short enough to sit on my shoulders!”

“Troy!” Pleione yelled, the teen hiding behind Jackal, laughing. The psycho held his hands up in defense, “I’m innocent!” Tyreen shook her head, laughing as well. 

“Fine, fine! I’m sorry, Mum,” Troy said, “All good?”

Pleione sighed, holding her head, “A little respect, you brat. Next time you ask to use my technical, it will be a no!” Troy gasped, Tyreen pointing at him, giggling.

“Not fair…” Troy pouted, crossing his arms. A small smirk was at the corner of his lips. 

“Boss, its time for your checkup. Gotta check the scar on your leg,” Jackal said, patting his own leg. Pleione muttered something, nodding.

“Alright, Troy, Tyreen, don’t get into trouble,” Pleione said, looking at them. The twins grinned, flashing thumbs up before running off. Troy barked out orders to some bandits lounging about while Tyreen threw some orbs at others to scare them.

Pleione watched them, frowning.

“Boss…” Jackal called out.

“Aye, going…” Pleione replied, following the psycho back to her main tent. She sat on her favorite chair, removing the clasps on her pants to reveal the scar.

Nothing was wrong with it.

Jackal dabbed ointment on it either way, placing a clean cloth on it. He stepped back, waiting on her. Pleione entered into a coughing fit, wheezing. She coughed more and more, getting out her handkerchief to cover her mouth. Jackal frowned as she revealed patches of blood in the cloth. 

“Heh… I won’t last long it seems, Jackal,” she said, wheezing again, “Once everyone gets wind of this, they’ll attack us…” 

“Boss, you gotta let the kids know,” Jackal handed her another cloth. The bandit lord shook her head.

“No… Not a single word is to be uttered to the twins about my condition, Jackal,” El Capitan said, “I can’t have them worry about me… I will be used as bait against them.”

Wherever she went, the twins tagged along. It was no hidden knowledge. All of her bandit camps, all of her subjects knew about the children that were taken under the wing of the ruthless El Capitan. 

“Tyreen has yet to control her anger, you’ve seen how her powers react to her emotions,” Pleione said, coughing more, a bit of blood at the corner of her mouth, “If I die as a captive, no one will survive her onslaught and that’s including Troy.”

Jackal brought out an IV and needle, inserting it on her vein, administering medication via the IV, wiping the blood from Pleione’s mouth with a damp cloth, “I understand, but you’re going to slip up and they’ll find out.”

“They won’t… I will make sure of it,” Pleione whispered, sadly smiling. 

Jackal didn’t like her tone.

\-----00000000-------

Jackal watched from the cathedral the return of the raid caravans, the cheers and whooping of the armed cultists reaching the hub. A large crowd had gathered by the main gates, awaiting with baited breath for the Calypsos and their entourage. 

“I guess they were victorious…” Jackal said, touching the Helenite gun holstered on his belt, “Should we be worried or happy about it, Andromeda?”

You were laying in the makeshift bed on the floor, your back facing the priest, “It depends if they killed the Rat King…” Perseus was at the workbench, a metal contraption laid on the surface being worked on, glanced back at you.

“Regardless of the outcome, they just want one thing,” Perseus stated, now turning around in his stool, seeing you clutch an item close.

In your hands was a piece of paper, numbers written on them.

The coordinates of the Vault of Power in Promethea.

“Either way, I lose,” you muttered, covering yourself further with a blanket. 

You only hoped the Rat King was now dead.

Vile, vile creature.

\------00000-----

Tyreen skipped down the hallway, giggling as Troy followed behind, grinning. Odie, Pip, and Mouthpiece were close by, chattering about the successful raid and the acquirement of extra serum stock. Two badass psychos guarding Tyreen’s throne room opened the doors for the group, bowing.

Inside, Moksha and Basil were waiting, excitement written on their faces.

“My Twin Gods! The LiveScream was a complete success! Everyone loved it!” Moksha said, clapping, squeeing. Basil brought up several hologram screens, displaying the various chats and EchoNet forums that were bustling with the followers’ enthusiasm on the Rat King raid. 

“No one won’t stop talking about it! We have made a good dent on this bastard’s hold in the wastes,” Basil informed, grinning. 

“Good shit, good shit,” Odie said, smacking Troy on the back, “Great performance by Father Troy and our God Queen!” Troy laughed, grabbing Odie and messing with his right-hand man’s hair.

“The same thing I say about you, you piece of shit,” Troy cackled, “Your debut as my right-hand man couldn’t have been better!” The throne room erupted in laughter, the generals and the twins in good spirits.

“Oh shucks, you’re going to make me blush, Father Troy!” Odie joked back, hiding his face, doing a high-pitch giggling.

“Never do that again, its disturbing!” Tyreen said, laughing more, “But yes, great performance everyone. We managed to show that Master what we are capable of.” 

“I noticed in the feed the red surveyors,” Mouthpiece spoke up, going up to the console and selecting several clips from the raid, “were mingling about the outskirts of the stronghold, several scouts were sent but nothing was found in the area.”

“They were probably lookout surveyors, the ones inside the stronghold would interact with the Rat King and his serum-enhanced mods,” Troy replied, pausing the clip, “The built was also smaller compared to the one in the Atlas stronghold.”

“I assume that large surveyor was needed to control the Jester whereas the Rat King didn’t need any ‘mind controlling’ to actively pursue us,” Pip added, tossing into the flat surface of the console a broken hand mod, bloody from the fight with the bandit lord. 

“So, Rat King is out of the game…?” Moksha asked, “That means…”

“The God Queen’s plaything should cough up the location of the Vault that Trinity found,” Odie said, walking around the console, eyeing the other generals and the twins, “Any plans on how to approach the subject with her?”

The twins tensed up.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Odie observed, rolling his eyes.

“Just summon her, easy as that, no?” Pip said, chuckling, “’Hey, plaything, we decked the guy who worked with your ex-lover, who seemed to have a fascination in wanting to break your legs, may we have the location of the Vault, pretty please?’” He laughed when he finished, earning glares from the twins. Odie snickered.

“It’s not that simple, Pip,” Troy hissed out. Tyreen rubbed her forehead, unsure how to go about the subject with you.

The Rat King had spilled more information about you: implying that he had done something to you prior to your escape; your ruthlessness in Trinity; and how you were a leader of a group of ‘pets’ belonging to Master. Brutus was in the same category as you, a prized fighter for Trinity, and part of that group led by you.

Only this time, the CoV did not have to fight him.

“I told you to fix this,” Odie did some vague hand gesture, “weird tension you two have with the plaything. Ugh, I’ll call her up-”

“No one is going to summon her!” Troy said, growling. All the other generals stepped back, frightened. Odie only shrugged, “Sure thing, I guess.” 

“We just got back from the raid, let’s just rest for now,” Tyreen said, turning off the console, “Pip, please write up a report about the serum in this trial, we need to learn more about it prior to going to this Vault.” Whenever they asked for the location from you, her mind finished.

“Yes, my God Queen!” the generals bowed, retreating from the throne room. Odie lingered, waiting for the others to leave. The twins stared at him.

“What?” Odie asked, smiling.

“Spit it out,” Troy growled, “I swear it better not be something stupid.”

“No need to be angsty, Father Troy,” Odie said, “I’m genuinely curious as to why you two are avoiding her. I mean, she has helped a lot, indirectly.” He grinned.

“…You wouldn’t understand,” Tyreen said, looking away, frustrated, “Just leave.”

“Pft, you two, crying over a plaything? Unbelievable,” Odie said, laughing, “It truly is a sad day!”

“Odie…” Troy hissed out, “LEAVE. NOW.” He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Odie’s antics.

“Sure, I’ll leave, maybe I’ll swing by the bar, see if she’s hanging out with my little brother,” Odie said, looking at his nails in awe, “Get some drinks, get wasted, maybe she’ll tell me a sob story or two, and if I’m lucky, I’ll score!” Odie laughed more when Troy picked him by the shoulders, shaking him.

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” Troy yelled.

“T-Troy! Put him down!” Tyreen ran up to him, tugging at his arm, “Odie, stop it!”

“So sensitive, even the God Queen is calmer than you and that’s saying something,” Odie smirked, swinging his legs around, “Don’t like the idea of others having a better opportunity with her, huh? What’d you do to piss her off, Troy?”

“Odie!” Tyreen begged, seeing Troy seething. 

“You…” Troy growled out.

Odie’s expression faltered, “Helen was it, right?” Troy dumped him, the Calypso punching the console with his mechanical arm, breathing heavily. Tyreen helped Odie up, looking at Troy, worried. 

“You fucking asshole…” Troy said, clenching his fist.

“I’m not the one who didn’t do shit while his ex was in the arena pit,” Odie said, yawning, now looking at Tyreen, “Or the one who ordered to kill her brother’s ex, letting the disgraced Donovan do the deed.” Tyreen stepped away from him, shaking a bit. 

“Or the one who beat up the plaything.”

Tyreen froze, gasping sharply, her chest hurting. 

“H-How..?”

“Pip told me what you did,” Odie answered, disappointed, “I can see why my brother is extremely defensive of her around you two.”

Perseus. 

/You weren’t the one seeing her in pain for two days, under threat only find out she was half way dying on her own bed!/

“Pretty fucking bold of you two to assume she’d forgive your atrocities and come running back to your arms,” Odie said, disgust in his tone, “Doesn’t fucking work that way.”

Odie was pissed.

“I wouldn’t be fucking surprised if she wants to escape and go back to the douchebag of Master, I mean, I fucking would in her position,” Odie growled out.

“S-She can’t!” Tyreen protested, “D-Don’t say that!”

“She is not going anywhere!” Troy hissed out, glaring at Odie, “She is one of us now!”

Odie snorted, “She will eventually if you two keep this up, I can tell she’s desperate…”

“What?” Troy asked.

“Think about it: little bandit out in the wastes, living her life, gets captured by the infamous Twin Gods, forced to fight for their entertainment, a little chew toy for the God Queen, object of desire for Father Troy… what a fucking conga line of misfortune,” Odie said, whistling.

“What are you-“

“Thinking that your life was good but then this happened after you escaped a lunatic Rat King who was harboring you when your ex-lover shipped you off, the ex-lover who happens to be the head of some sort of corporate organization, forcing YOU to fight for his entertainment and others, an object of desire for many…” Odie continued, frowning. 

“Odie…”

“She feels caged. Trapped. It only takes a small, tiny thing to get her to fully snap… and poof! She’s gone! ‘Oh, where did the plaything go?’ ‘Oh, I don’t know, I think she managed to escape!’” Odie laughed, unfazed by the look of horror from the twins. 

“S-She wouldn’t…” Tyreen said, nervous, “S-She wouldn’t want to escape… that bastard is out there…”

“It doesn’t take a lot to figure out she’s at the point she doesn’t care anymore,” Odie added, “I bet you that once she gives you the information about the Vault, she’s gonna haul ass out of here and there will be nothing you two can do about it.”

“She. Won’t. Go. Anywhere…!” Troy barked out, agitated, “She won’t!”

“Troy, you dense motherfucker,” Odie shouted, jabbing him on the chest, “You antagonize her, she will. She managed to escape that fucker Rat King, she’s been here for over a year, you don’t think she’s already figure out a way to escape?”

“T-Then why didn’t she do it?!” Troy yelled back, shoving Odie away, “There’s your fucking flaw!”

“…Helen.”

Troy looked at Tyreen, angry.

“She stayed because of her, Troy… You told me she wanted to get revenge…” Tyreen whispered, gulping.

“Bingo!” Odie said, clapping, “See, the God Queen knows.”

“Donovan… She stayed to get even with him…” Troy sighed in frustration, everything that Odie said making sense, “S-She wanted revenge for Helen against Donovan… that’s why she contacted that fucker to do that…”

“Wow, you two have your sticks really up in your asses,” Odie laughed, “But I give her mad props for pulling that shit, speaks of a very vengeful woman, wouldn’t want to get on her bad side!”

“What do you propose… to stop her from leaving…?” Tyreen asked, gazing at the floor, “S-She’s been on edge lately, that I can tell…” She didn’t want to anger you or for you take anything she’d tell you the wrong way.

“Give her a reason to stay on her own free will,” Odie said, hands on hips, giving them a stern look, “Don’t force her, let her decide.”

“What reason? We already dealt with Donovan and now the Rat King… We can’t just forget about the Vault…” Troy said, pulling at his hair.

“Trinity.”

The twins’ eyes widen with the name of the organization ran by Master.

You had escaped Trinity, it was easy to tell you INTENSELY disliked them, had given information about them to the CoV and even helped out with acquiring the serum for the Calypsos to use.

“Offer her something she can’t refuse or at least make her interested in it,” Odie said, “And just like that, she’ll stay, perhaps begrudgingly, but she’ll stay.” The general grinned, noticing the small smiles on the twins’ lips.

“Y-Yeah… That’ll work! Right, Troy?” Tyreen asked, trying to hide her excitement.

“I think so… but how do we go about that? Its not like we can go up to her and be like, ‘Hey, you hate Trinity, we hate them too, let’s pummel them together!’” Troy mused, a bit relaxed. 

The twins stared at Odie.

“Ugh, I’m gonna have to start charging for these therapy sessions, geez,” Odie rolled his eyes, “Give her a box of chocolates with that phrase or something!”

“Odie…” Troy tried to sound threatening but failed, snorting at the general’s comment. Tyreen stifled a laugh as well.

“Well, because I am blindly devoted to the cult, I already had something special set up,” Odie said, chuckling, “Had Basil and Moksha help me out on this.” He plugged into the console his EchoNet device, revealing a series of images of the arena.

“Wait, what? This is…” Troy was astonished, skimming through the images.

Tyreen clapped, jumping up and down, “Y-Yes! I think she’ll like this! Especially with the spoils we got in the raid!”

Troy nodded, chuckling, “Oh, she’ll definitely like this…” 

“No need to thank me,” Odie said, bowing several times, “But I wouldn’t mind a bottle of rakk-ale for the trouble.” Troy smacked Odie on the back.

“You can have the whole fucking barrel!”

The twins couldn’t wait to show you the surprise.

\------00000000--------

“So, you keep everyone together?” Troy asked, chewing on a piece of meat, “Like a king!” 

Tyreen nodded, pointing at Pleione’s regal jacket, “A king! A bandit king!”

Pleione chuckled, amused by the twin, “Bandit lord, bandit king, same thing. But yes, you all have seen the camps, they belong to me.”

Someday, you two will inherit all.

The bandit lord and the twins were seated for dinner, the two discussing their day to their adoptive mother. Troy had ranted on about his new gadgets, creating guns from scraps, and discovering something new called the EchoNet Livestreams, Forums, and other ‘online’ curiosities. Tyreen joined, showing Pleione the platforms on the EchoNet device.

“We can show everyone about our bandit camp! The fearsome El Capitan!” Tyreen chirped, Troy nodding. Pleione rubbed her forehead, sighing in frustration.

“Don’t trust anything in that damn thing… We had talked about this before…” Pleione said, gripping tight her eating utensil. She regretted giving them EchoNet devices.

“But Mum! We can communicate with other bandits, get something going on! Atlas is down here in the region, we can still cover more area!” Tyreen pleaded.

“Yeah, we tested it out, there are others out there that would be interesting in joining El Capitan’s bandit clan!” Troy said. This caught Pleione’s attention.

“…What did you do…” Pleione said, narrowing her eyes at the twins, “…Did you compromise our clan’s safety?”

Troy stood up, “Of course not! Mum, listen, we can grow YOUR influence, you are known across Promethea, even the Terror of the Waste is no longer relevant!” 

“The answer is no. I’m not risking the lives of my bandits for some online thing…!” Pleione said, slamming her fist on the table, “That’s the end of it!” The twins stared at her, immediately shrinking in their seats. 

/You aren’t even the maternal loving type./

She had given the twins everything she never had: A safe haven. She wished they would understand the complexity of bandit life. She knew it was mostly her fault they were slightly spoiled but the rest of her bandits had done so as well, a Siren was amongst them. Pleione had noticed several of her bandits ‘worshipping’ Tyreen, even finding a small shrine to her during one of her camp inspections that she promptly ordered to be tore down. 

She couldn’t risk the twins having an ego boost.

No one was immortal.

“…I’m sorry. Please understand… that us bandits… are seen as scum by others,” Pleione said, sighing, “We are leftovers of the corporations who used us for their own greedy purposes.” The twins looked at her, surprised. 

“From Atlas..?” Tyreen asked. 

Pleione nodded, “Some of us were brought in by Atlas, others by Dahl. I was a prisoner brought here to Promethea by Dahl for their digging sites… abandoned when Atlas won the corporate war here.”

The twins grew quiet, looking down at their plates. They had no recollection where they came from, only the knowledge that they weren’t from a bandit camp. Memories of a lost childhood were buried deep down alongside their mother. 

Leto. 

Who tried saving them from Atlas.

“…Finish your meal, we’ll talk more later, okay?” Pleione said. The twins nodded, picking at their food.

“May we visit mummy’s grave...?” Troy asked, timid. Tyreen chewed on her food, slowly.

“Later today, yes, I’ll let the boys know to ready up the technical,” Pleione replied, seeing the twin’s faces brighten up again. The meal continued on, the twins once again chattering about their day. Pleione observed them, somewhat worried. She had grown to love the teens, but was afraid for them.

Was this what a mother felt like?

Was this what THEIR mother felt? 

A woman who risked everything to get her children to safety. To live. To survive. 

Pleione never tried to replace Leto, only help what she could to nurture the twins. She wondered what Leto will tell her, seeing the twins now. Probably scold El Capitan for showing the twins the harsh rule of bandit life. 

But Pleione had to prepare them for the day she ceased to exist.

“Heh…” Pleione said, taking a deep breath. 

Pain.

Unbearable pain in her chest. 

“Mum?” Troy said, frantic, “Mum?! Are you okay!?”

Her vision got hazy.

“Mum!” Tyreen cried out. The woman felt Tyreen’s power seep into her.

She passed out.

\----------000000000-------------

You were sitting on the floor, next to Perseus who was at the workbench, tinkering with the metal contraption. Helen’s psycho mask laid next to his work, the bottom half missing. Leaning against his leg, you closed your eyes, the sounds of tools and metal being cut soothing you. Although you had helped out with the creation of the capsule feeders for the serum, it wasn’t enough.

You wanted to go back to the warehouse. Itching to work. 

“Stop it,” Jackal and Perseus said unison. You opened your eyes, eyeing up at Perseus then at Jackal who was sitting on a couch, mending your ‘JAWBREAKER’ jacket. Both were staring at you.

At your hand.

Digging into your wrist. Red. Blood. 

You were pinching your skin again.

Jackal sighed, putting down the jacket, retrieving a small med kit from the night-stand near him. He approached you, kneeling down and taking out gauze and alcohol. Perseus paused his work, looking down. You pouted, letting Jackal clean up the wounds and dressing up your wrist.

“You’re not letting the old wounds heal,” Jackal said, scolding you, “You will end up with an infection.”

“I’m fine…” you muttered, not liking his tone, but knowing he spoke the truth. You jumped when Perseus patted your head.

“Right, fine is ripping your skin off, remember Prophet Pip kept saying he was going to put you in a full body cast,” Perseus mused, hearing you gasp.

“T-Traitor!” you said, hearing Jackal and Perseus chuckle. The priest finished, standing up.

“Nervous tick?” he asked. Lips thin, you nodded. Biting your hand devolved into pinching your wrist, digging your nails. After the caravan of the Calypsos arrived, you were waiting for their call. 

Anxious.

Desperate.

**Fearful.**

A ping went off, Jackal checking his EchoNet device.

You were being summoned.

\---------0000000000000------------

Tyreen whimpered, holding Pleione’s hand as she fed the bandit lord energy. The twins, in panic, managed to find Jackal, alerting the psycho about Pleione’s condition. They managed to move her to her main tent. Troy kept looking outside the tent, sneering at any other bandit trying to take a peek in.

Weakness.

The bandits could sense it. 

“I’m fine…” Pleione said, sighing, “Must have eaten too fast…” This little to dissuade the twins and Jackal.

“Mum, you passed out at the table…” Tyreen said, frowning, “You hardly ate anything…!”

“Maybe I didn’t eat enough…” Pleione said, earning frustrated looks, “I’m fine… I just need to rest…” 

“The others are starting to notice, Mum,” Troy said, glancing back at her, “….You’re not sick…are you?”

Jackal kept busy, not saying a word as he administered a booster shot to the bandit lord. Pleione sat up, shaking her head, “I’m not. haven’t been sleeping well is all.”

A complete lie. She couldn’t bear to tell them she was dying. 

“…Okay…” Troy said, unconvinced, letting it slide, “We’ll stay here with you.”

“No… you are to visit your mother’s grave… Don’t stick around for me,” Pleione said, pushing her hair to the side, “Jackal, is the technical ready for the twins to use?”

“It is boss,” Jackal replied, taking out keys. The twins eyed the keys then at Pleione. She nodded at them, smiling. 

“Go, we don’t know when the next dust storm is coming in,” the bandit lord said, “Tell her I said ‘hi,’ and to scold you for not eating your vegetables.” The twins chuckled, smiling a bit. They approached Pleione, giving her a quick hug before leaving the tent. Jackal shook his head, looking at the bandit.

“Boss… they know….” Jackal said, frowning.

“Jackal…” Pleione tried to speak, the booster shot getting her sleepy, “…Not now…” The sound of an engine and taking off in the distance reached the bandit lord’s ears, her sleep arriving. Jackal watched as the twins left the camp, waving at Tyreen who glanced back. 

The ride towards their mother’s grave gave the twins time to think. They knew something was going on with Pleione, the might bandit avoiding the question of sickness. 

Bandit life, showing weakness gave others the signal to come in and take what’s yours for their own. Sickness meant there was a timer until you croaked, the vultures picking up the scent, waiting. 

“She’s sick…” Tyreen said, checking her Siren marks, “I could feel it when I was giving her energy…” Pleione’s vitality was low.

“S-Shut up…” Troy said, not wanting to hear it.

It was the truth. They saw it.

“….” Tyreen leaned back on her seat, sighing. She and Troy were on their way to visit Leto’s grave, the idea of Pleione being buried next sickened her. The twins still had nightmares of the horrible night, seeing their mother’s bullet ridden body on the ground. Troy had the scar of the bullet that hit his neck, covered by the black collars he chose to wear. 

Troy stopped the vehicle, gripping tight the wheel.

“Troy?” Tyreen asked, turning to face him. 

“We have company…” he whispered, gesturing to the side. Tyreen followed his line of sight, her gaze meeting someone else’s.

The Terror of the Waste. 

Cepheus. 

The old man stood far, on top of a cliff, looking at them, a sniper rifle in hand. The bandit lord was patrolling his territories, the current area at the edge with El Capitan’s hold. He chewed on a toothpick, spitting out as he readied his gun, waiting on the twins.

“Troy….” Tyreen said, sinking further into her seat. 

“Don’t do anything… we’re just passing by… he’d be stupid to shoot at us…” Troy said, starting the engine, driving forward. Tyreen glanced back at bandit, seeing him talking to an EchoNet device. His expression changed to shock, then fear as the bandit lord took off. 

The scare quickly left their minds, the twins focusing in reaching their destination. They could see dust clouds forming in the horizon, a dust storm threatening to pass by. As they reached the gravesite, Tyreen got up in her seat, eyes widen.

“T-Troy! TROY! S-Someone disturbed mummy’s grave!” Tyreen shouted, jumping out of the still moving vehicle causing Troy to press of the brakes hard. She ran towards the site, anger bubbling up. Troy turned off the vehicle, chasing after her as he saw what had angered her.

The slabs that covered their mother’s resting place were removed, the soil turned over, a small pit left behind.

The body was gone.

“NO! NO! NO!” Tyreen shouted, falling to her knees, digging into the soil, “MUMMY!” The flowers had been torn off, discarded on the sides. Troy looked around, gritting his teeth. 

There were no signs of fresh tire tracks or the surrounding plants squashed. Tyreen wept over the soil while Troy checked the area, hoping for answers.

“Mummy!” Tyreen wept, not noticing a small flower root curling around her fingers. When she tried to get up, she got caught in it.

“AH!” Tyreen shouted, trying to pull away. Troy immediately ran back, hearing her scream, “TY!” The root kept her anchored, her Siren marks reacting to it. 

“T-Troy!” Tyreen pleaded, Troy grabbing the root with his mechanical arm, managing to yank it off. The root didn’t tear, but loosened its grip on Tyreen. Troy pulled more at it, the root revealing a small path along the ground.

“W-What the fuck…?!” Troy said, pulling more, seeing the root grow thicker. Tyreen gasped as they kept following, the root leading up the mountain side.

“T-Troy.. we should head back… we need to tell mum about this…” Tyreen said, scared. 

“We need to see where this leads!” Troy insisted, “This was leading outside mummy’s grave…” Tyreen didn’t like this, feeling a sense of dread as they ventured further up the mountain. Pleione had forbidden them from going up, telling them about a red mist that would settle in the area. 

Small rocks landing from above stopped the twins in their path, both of them looking up.

They weren’t alone.

“Troy…” Tyreen whispered, getting close to him. Troy got in front of her, shielding her. They both waited.

Nothing. 

Before they could move, footsteps were heard from the path above, the twins immediately running. They kept going, finally seeing the other being in the area with them.

Leto.

She walked inside a cavern, unaware of the twins. 

“N-No way… No fucking way….” Troy said, frozen in his spot.

“…T-That was mummy…?” Tyreen said, panic setting in.

“T-There is no way… There’s no fucking way! Ty, that can’t be mummy! We saw her get hit with bullets by those Atlas assholes!” Troy said, turning to face her. Tyreen’s Siren marks were reacting with her emotions, the air growing thick around her. Troy stepped back, coughing.

“T-Ty…” he called out. Tyreen took off running, heading towards the cavern.

“TY!” Troy shouted, following her. The Siren Calypso entered, pausing, causing Troy to bump into her.

“Gah, what the hell?! Taking off like that!” Troy said, scolding his sister. Tyreen pointed in front of her, eyes wide, her Siren marks glowing bright. Troy noticed his own marks glowing as well, staring ahead.

A Vault.

A Vault gate.

“Mummy…. Mummy walked in… in there…” Tyreen whispered, walking towards the gate, “H-How?!” She pressed her left hand on one side of the gate, checking around.

“Ty, lets go..! W-We might have hallucinated this! You know what mum said about the red mist in this area!” Troy grabbed her arm, but Tyreen pushed him off.

“We both saw her, Troy!” Tyreen said, looking back at him, “W-We both saw her!”

“Ty…” Troy shook his head, “C-Come on… Please…” Part of him wished it was true what he saw but he knew there was no possibility. Their mother was long dead. 

He got near the gate, squatting down to check for any mechanism, leaning on his left arm, touching the gate. A series of curved, red lines lit up the gate, both twins stepped back.

“W-What did you do?!” Tyreen asked, looking at Troy.

“I-I didn’t do anything!” Troy shouted, looking at his arm then at the gate, “O-Our marks…?” Tyreen glanced at hers, placing her hand back on the gate. She stared at Troy. He gulped, placing his left hand on the other side of the gate.

It lit up again, the center part of the Vault gate opening a portal, a swirl of crimson color seen. The twins were astonished, washed over the energy emitted from the gate. 

They peeked into the portal.

Leto was walking inside, venturing further on the other side of the portal.

“Mummy…!” Tyreen called out, rushing forward. Troy cursed, shouted after her, chasing Tyreen. The twins entered, a bloody marshland welcoming them. The air reeked of blood, flesh, and pools murky, filled with glowing crystals. Several rotten corpses protruded from the ground, frightening the twins. 

“T-Troy…!” Tyreen pointed ahead of them. Troy stayed near Tyreen, frozen in his spot. Leto was staring at them, eyes wide.

“Tyreen…? Troy….?” Leto said, surprised, “I-Is it really the two of you….?” She seemed as surprised as they were. Tyreen sobbed, covering her mouth, ran towards Leto, hugging her.

“Mummy!” Tyreen cried out, her mind reeling from what she was seeing. Leto hugged her back, petting her head, “My little one, my little girl! I-I thought my mind was playing tricks on me!”

Troy remained far, shock, afraid. What was going on? They had frequently visited their mother’s grave and all of a sudden, she’s walking around?

“Troy.”

Troy gulped, meeting Leto’s gaze. She had her arm extended out, a sad smile on her face, “My boy… join us…” He felt his legs move on their own, his mind unable to comprehend the situation. He joined Tyreen in the hug, melting in it. 

This was their mother…? Tears landed on Troy’s cheeks, the boy overcome with emotion. Tyreen was wailing, hugging their mother tight.

“My beloved children…” Leto cried out, hugging Troy and Tyreen, “How I longed for this day… to finally hold you in my arms….”

“Mummy…” the twins cried, hugging her back. It was surreal to them, their mother alive and well after 5 years. 

“We have so much to catch up,” Leto said, pulling back, caressing their cheeks, “You have grown so tall Troy, I remember when you used to reach my hip… My little girl, Tyreen, your cheeky smile… brightening my day…”

“M-Mummy… H-How…? W-We thought you were dead…!” Troy asked, sniffing. 

“W-We thought… The Crimson Lance… killed you..?” Tyreen asked as well, crying. 

Leto frowned, “I’m here now.. its all that matters, Troy.. Tyreen…” She hugged them both again, the twins returning the gesture.

“Everything will be okay now… I’m here… My children…” Leto said, voice going low. The red mist thickened around them, the twins feeling woozy, disorientated. Behind the twins, appearing from the blood pools, a pair of emaciated hands sprouted, fingers twitching, reached out.

“Everything will be okay… I’m here… Let mother take care of you…” Leto repeated, a small smile on her lips.

“Mummy…?” Troy said, feeling his body heavy. Tyreen slumped forward, followed by Troy. Their Siren marks flared uncontrollably. Leto let go of them, their bodies grabbed by the hands that pulled them down the blood pools. She stared as the twins thrashed deep in the liquid. 

Troy and Tyreen screams were muffled by the liquid entering their bodies. They each desperately tried to swim up, losing the fight with every vain attempt. Vines wrapped around their arms and legs, pulling them further down the pool. Soon, they grew exhausted, going limp. 

Vines resembling hands grabbed their heads, pulsating red. Little by little, their memories were being rewritten.

There was no Atlas.

There was no pale monster.

There was no ‘mister’ Hephaestus.

There was no dead Leto. 

Their sweet mother.

Alive and well.

Waiting for them.

A crimson vine tilted Leto’s head towards a pair of red eyes in the distance.

“Your body served me well…. I shall continue to use it… for the Sirens….” A deep, garbled, raspy voice said. Leto remained quiet, eyes wide.

A mere puppet. 

A flesh puppet. 

The mother than once inhabited the body long gone.

Now used for the sick, twisted desires of an unknown creature.

Their sweet mother.

\------0000000-------

You paused, shoulders drawn, tense, a sob escaping. Perseus and Jackal stopped in their tracks, turning around to face you. Breaking down, you fell to your knees, crying in vain as you pleaded your body to stop shaking. Perseus and Jackal rushed towards you, alarmed. 

“H-Hey… what’s wrong?” Perseus asked, about to grab your hand when you pulled away. He looked at Jackal, extremely worried. You had been quiet for a few days, rarely leaving your hut save for today to meet him and the priest in the cathedral, waiting for the Calypsos.

“I-I don’t want to go inside…” you cried out, tears falling to the floor, “I-I don’t want to be here…”

“The Calypsos have summoned you… w-we can’t back out on this one…” Jackal pleaded, frowning, “You know what they are expecting….”

The location of the Vault of Power. 

With the Rat King down, the twins wanted for you to complete your part of the deal. 

“I know what they fucking want!” you shouted, startling Perseus and Jackal, fists clenched, “It’s always what THEY. FUCKING. WANT! WHAT DOES THE GOD QUEEN WANT? WHAT DOES FATHER TROY WANT?! I’M FUCKING SICK AND TIRED OF THEIR FUCKING BULLSHIT!” 

“K-Keep it down… they are on the other side of this door..” Jackal pleaded once again, urging you to lower your voice, “They’ll barge out if they hear a commotion… they know you are coming.”

“We’ll go in, you give them the information and we walk out, okay?” Perseus said, attempting to calm you down. This was the most agitated he’s seen you be ever since he met you. Even when you were struggling to keep your killing urge down, you’d never cry out in the open, only private.

You growled, punching the ground several times, “FUCK’EM!” You got up, crumbling up the piece of paper in your bloody hands, throwing it at Jackal and Perseus, “YOU DELIVER IT! I’M FUCKING DONE! I’M FUCKING DONE BEING THEIR FUCKING CHEW TOY! THEY CAN GO AHEAD AND RUIN SOMEONE ELSE’S LIFE!” You turned on your heel, storming off, pushing everything on your way to the floor, loud ruckus of fallen statues and items breaking. You tore down from the wall the Skullmasher’s bandit flag that had been displayed as a trophy. 

Always taunting you whenever you’d visit.

Its red color reminding you of days forever lost.

**Freedom.**

“W-Wait!” Perseus shouted, ready to go after you but stopped when the doors behind him opened. Jackal stepped back, bowing his head. The mechanic gulped, holding the paper with the coordinates of the Vault, bowing as well.

Troy and Tyreen had unreadable expressions, only staring down the great hall at the mess you left behind, both of them noticing the missing bandit flag. 

They had heard everything. 

Odie, inside the throne room, tsked, shaking his head.

/She feels caged. Trapped. It only takes a small, tiny thing to get her to fully snap… and poof! She’s gone!/

**You had snapped.**

\-----0000000------

**SNAP.**

Tyreen woke up, breathing heavily. She frantically looked around, searching for Troy, her eyes landing on Leto who was smiling at her. The woman was standing by the altar the Siren Calypso was laying on.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Leto said, approaching her. Tyreen tried to even out her breathing, taking in her surroundings. She was still inside the Vault, the crimson wasteland present. 

“Tyreen?” Leto asked again. 

“I… What happened…?” Tyreen asked, turning around to see Troy asleep next to her. The boy was slowly waking up, groaning.

“What happened on what?” Leto attempted again, “You and Troy fainted… this environment and its air does get heavy…” Troy woke up, sitting up.

“Ow… I feel… I feel like someone just punched me on the head…” Troy said, rubbing his head. 

“Mother… what is this place…?” Tyreen asked, now paying attention to the crimson vines moving about. 

_**Mother.**_

“We’re inside a Vault,” Leto said, “The Red Vault.” The woman sat down at the altar, the twins scooting over to her.

“Why are you here though? What happened at At-“ Tyreen paused. Her mind went blank.

What was she trying to say? Atlas? What had happened at Atlas?

“The village, our village was burned down, remember? We had to escape,” Leto said, smiling sadly, “I managed to get you two out, but during the ensuing chaos, we were torn apart…”

Troy blinked, trying to remember. 

“Yeah… I remember… me and Ty… calling out to you…” Troy said, mind foggy.

“That nice bandit… El Capitan saved you two when her bandits came to check out the aftermath .. I…” Leto pulled down at her scarf, showing bullet wounds, “I was hit… several times… during the chase… I stumbled on this place…”

The twins eyed the scars.

They remembered the Crimson Lance soldiers attacking.

“The Crimson Lance… were monsters, I managed to hide here, the water here healed my wounds… Now I can’t get out…” Leto said, putting on her scarf.

“But we saw you outside! How were you able to do that?” Tyreen asked, pointing at the Vault gate leading out to Promethea. 

“…I’m only able to leave this place for a few minutes but I have to come back or else my body suffers withdrawals….” Leto sobbed, “I tried getting out to search for you two, to seek out El Capitan’s camp… my body couldn’t handle it…” Troy hugged Leto, Tyreen holding their mother’s hand.

“I couldn’t see you two grow…” Leto cried out, “I didn’t want to you two to think that I abandoned you… I.. I…” 

“Mother… we found you now… everything is fine…!” Troy said, hugging her tighter.

“If we hadn’t been inspecting the area for El Capitan, we wouldn’t have found you!” Tyreen said.

**Something was wrong. The twin’s minds were yelling at them.**

The feeling squashed immediately.

“There’s so much to catch up,” Leto said, smiling, “But I’m afraid it won’t last long…”

“What do you mean?” Troy asked, scared. The twins had just found their mother, they couldn’t lose her.

“You two are able to leave… I’m not…” Leto said, wiping her own tears, “I’m still stuck here…”

“W-We can try to get you out! Troy’s and my power have grown since we were little kids!” Tyreen said, lifting her Siren arm out. Leto looked at the marks, hopeful.

“I-Is that how you two got in? The Siren marks?” Leto asked. The twins nodded, clasping their left arms together, the marks glowing bright, flaring.

Leto bit back a hiss. Instead, a force smile was placed.

“We can try…” Leto said, getting up. The twins followed, leading her to the Vault gate, out, excited. They held her hands, reaching the edge of the cavern. Leto remained quiet, but shaking.

“D-Did it work..? How are you feeling?” Troy asked, glancing down at her. Leto took a deep breath, checking her hands out.

“M-My body usually starts to turn purple… it hasn’t done that yet…” Leto said, nervous. 

“T-Then it worked! Maybe you needed a Siren to break the hold?” Tyreen observed, looking back at the Vault gate.

“M-Maybe…” Leto said, walking further with the twins. The trek was uneventful, the twins encouraging Leto. Once they reached the bottom of the pathway, all seemed well.

“We did it! Y-You hadn’t reach this far, right?” Tyreen said, excited.

“Not this far…” Leto replied, a small smile on her lips, “I think it worked…” Troy grinned, pulling his hand away, throwing his fist up in the air. Tyreen let go as well, clapping.

Leto fell to her knees, wheezing.

“M-Mother!!!” Tyreen quickly grabbed her before she hit the floor. 

Leto threw up blood, her tears turning crimson. The twins panicked, Troy picking her up. Tyreen fed her energy, fear setting in as Leto’s bullet wounds reopened.

“B-Back… Back…” Leto cried out. 

“Mother! Hang on!” Troy said, trekking up the rough mountainside, Tyreen desperately keeping up. The trek proved to be troublesome, the pathway unforgiving to the twins. Leto cried out in pain, the twins reactivated the Vault gate, barging inside. 

“A-Altar…” Leto pointed at the altar, weak. Troy felt he was sinking with every step as he tried to reach the altar. Tyreen was sobbing, watching as her brother placed their mother on the slab. 

“M-Mother, Ty we gotta do something! We overexerted her!” Troy said, his red marks glowing.

“F-Feed her energy! You have my excess energy,” Tyreen said, placing her Siren hand on his marks, activating it. Troy placed his human hand on Leto’s forehead, energy expelled and entering his mother.

Leto squirmed, her wounds closed up, the blood evaporating. 

Troy collapsed, heaving. Leto coughed, rolling to her side, panting. Tyreen helped Troy up, noticing his pale state.

“T-Troy! TROY!” Tyreen shook him, the boy passing out, “W-Wake up!”

“T-Troy…! Put him in the blood pool….” Leto said, weakly standing up, “H-He gave me too much… energy…” Tyreen cried, Leto helping her with Troy, placed her brother in one of the blood pools. His Siren marks reacted to the waters, flaring. Slowly, his skin returned with a healthy glow.

“I-I’m sorry…” Tyreen said, sobbing, “I-I’m sorry little brother…” Troy groaned, opening his eyes, looking up at them.

“Wha..?” Troy muttered, “That’s a first…. I overdid it, didn’t I?” Tyreen hugged Troy, shushing him. Leto sat down, ignoring the blood soaking into her clothes.

“Y-You gave us a fright, Troy…” Leto said.

“U-Us! We thought you were going to die outside!” Troy said, turning around to look at her, “W-We can’t risk it again, Mother.”

“I know…” Leto said, hugging him and Tyreen.

“But there is a way for me to escape…”

“A way?” the twins asked.

“The Great Vault…” Leto said, pulling away, “I’ve explored this place… there was some writing about the ‘Great Vault’ being the ‘core’… not sure what that means… but I’m assuming it control this place?”

“Could be…?“ Troy said, now getting out of the blood pool. Tyreen was confused, but stared at her Siren marks. The marks had allowed her to open the Vault gate alongside Troy. 

“How do we go about looking for it… what do we need?” Tyreen asked.

“You will need to find a Vault map… as far as the writings say… it appears within a Vault key… not sure what those look like,” Leto replied, frowning, “I remember several Crimson Lance soldiers shouting about a “vault” in the village… not sure if that’s what they meant…”

“W-We can find it!” Troy said, “Ty.. .we can ask El Capitan for help-“

“No. Don’t. If you do, she’ll stop you…” Leto said, staring at the twins, “S-She will stop you.. I’m sure of it…”

The twins frowned, looking away. Pleione had shot down their idea to reach out to other bandits via the EchoNet platform. 

“Only you two… can do this…” Leto said, approaching them again, “Only you two.. are worthy of the Great Vault…”

“It’s your birthright…”

The twin’s eyes widen, glowing.

**Their minds screamed. WRONG. WRONG.**

“As Sirens… seek out the Great Vault….”

**WRONG WRONG**

“Do it for Mother….”

“For Mother…” the twins muttered.

**NO NO NO PLEASE DON’T LISTEN**

“Bring me sacrifices…” Leto said, smirking.

The red eyes glowed brightly in the distance, hidden in the bloody mist. 

Watching.

Observing.

A plan set in motion.

**THAT’S NOT MUMMY**

\------000000------

You shoved cultists aside, snarling when they tried to pick a fight with you, punching few in anger. Red. Your knuckles were covered in red.

_Flashes of the impaled bodies of the Skullmashers bandits flooded your mind. You were supposed to be dead._

The bloody cultists on the ground were red. 

_Flashes of your blood as you threw up from the first arena fight flooded your mind. You were supposed to be dead._

The fountain under the Calypsos’ statues turned red.

_Flashes of dried blood on your clothes from the CoV symbol that Troy carved on your body flooded your mind. You were supposed to be dead._

Your clothes were soaked in red.

_Flashes of Tyreen digging into your deep, bleeding gashes left by Helen’s dagger flooded your mind. You were supposed to be dead._

Your blood boiled.

_Flashes of thick, blackened blood escaping your mouth, keeling over the shower from Tyreen’s beating flooded your mind. You were supposed to be dead._

Blood is red.

_Flashes of the sweet feeling of the scalpel digging deep into your skin, the scent of blood hitting your nostrils flooded your mind._

_**YOU WERE SUPPPOSED TO BE DEAD.** _

You were seeing red.

Doesn’t matter what you think, Troy gets what he wants.

Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. 

_Tyreen says she loves you._

…..

Its always what they want.

I want to come out and play.

_Nobody bothered asking how the plaything felt._

Says the little monster.

\------00000000-------

“Any sign of her?” Odie asked, going through the surveillance camera feeds.

“N-Nothing… she punched several cultists in the main square but she disappeared from the nearby cameras,” Moksha informed, flipping through cameras. Odie cursed, growling.

The Calypsos were in an adjacent room, listening. They hadn’t spoken a word to anyone or to each other. 

/ It’s always what THEY. FUCKING. WANT!/

…

/WHAT DOES THE GOD QUEEN WANT?/ 

She wanted your love.

/WHAT DOES FATHER TROY WANT?!/

He wanted a chance to love again.

/I’M FUCKING SICK AND TIRED OF THEIR FUCKING BULLSHIT!/

They thought everything was going to be fine. 

/I’M FUCKING DONE!/

They thought everything was going to be fine.

/I’M FUCKING DONE BEING THEIR FUCKING CHEW TOY!/

They thought everything was going to be fine.

/THEY CAN GO AHEAD AND RUIN SOMEONE ELSE’S LIFE!/

**But it wasn’t.**

Footsteps approaching alerted the twins of an intruder in their sulking corner. Odie wasn’t smiling, but it was evident he was angry. The Calypsos saw the resemblance between the brothers, Perseus having glared down at them a few moments ago, mostly at Tyreen. The mechanic didn’t stick around, him and Jackal taking off in an attempt to find you on their own. 

“I warned you both,” Odie said, voice laced with disappointment, “but you didn’t listen.”

The twins didn’t respond, Tyreen gripping tight the paper Perseus had handed over. Odie crossed his arms, huffing.

“What’s the matter? I thought having the location for the Vault would have you ecstatic,” the general said, almost in a mocking tone, “We got the serum, we got the soldiers, we can just go ahead and fly in and storm the damn place!” He raised his arms up, emphasizing his point.

The twins didn’t respond. 

“Huh, so now you keep your mouths shut, fucking weird of you two,” Odie spat out, “Ugh, if this is what Donovan had to deal with, shit, I can understand him going desperate…” Troy growled at the mention of his ex-right-hand man, his eye twitching. 

“What? You know I’m speaking the truth,” Odie said, huffing, “Now to see if she doesn’t leave a blood trail.” A ping came through on Odie’s EchoNet, the man reading the message, his face lit up.

“Oh, seems like Jackal and my brother found her,” Odie informed, putting the device away, “I’ll be back.”

The twins got up, intent in following but the general stopped in his tracks, extending his arm out, “You two are going nowhere…”

“Odie…” Troy threatened, “We are going…”

“You wanted for us to settle this, we are,” Tyreen added.

Odie shook his head, “She’s fucking pissed off right now, you think she’s going to listen to you two? I’ll go talk to her. You two STAY here…” Troy grabbed Odie’s arm, leaning forward.

“We. Are. Going,” Troy hissed out. Tyreen glared at Odie, clenching her fist. 

Odie shrugged, yanking his arm away from Troy, crossing his arms, “Fine, go ahead, go. Go fucking ruin it. Hm, maybe she’ll actually fight you, rip your jaw off or something?” Troy stepping back with the comment, “Oh, and of course, the God Queen can’t let her plaything kill her brother, might have to use her power to stop her from doing so, right?” Tyreen tensed up, “I mean, Troy will be okay, the jaw is replaceable, but the plaything getting hurt again by the God Queen… Oh boy…” He shook his head, snickering. Pip had informed him of Trinity’s threat. 

But Odie was hitting Tyreen in one of her current fears: Using her Siren powers to hurt you.

“S-Shut up…” Tyreen said, anxious. That was the last thing she wanted to do. Troy got in front of Tyreen, hissing at Odie, “Stop it….”

“I’m only telling you what is going to happen. You heard her out there! She’s on extreme edge, I told you she wasn’t going to care anymore at this point!” Odie said, getting up on Troy’s face, “I will talk to her, reason with her, then afterwards, we’ll see if she is willing to listen to you two.”

Troy backed up, placing a hand on Tyreen’s shoulder. She was glaring down at the floor, conflicted. They kept silent. 

“See, that wasn’t that bad,” Odie stuck his tongue out at them, “Moksha, summon the other generals, we need to start surveying that Vault location, keep the Twin Gods busy.” He waved off, slamming the large wooden doors on his way out. 

“Huh, so we’re just pretty faces at this point?” Troy quipped.

“The right-hand man running the show…” Tyreen said, rubbing her face, tense. 

The sane one trying to keep the cult together.

\--------000000000--------

Insanity was a plague among bandits. Going mad from lack of sleep, food, and seeing traumatizing events were enough to send the bravest bandits to the grave early. Pleione prided herself for still being level-headed when half of her bandits succumbed to it. Usually it started about a rant about Vaults, the psychos, including Jackal, would go on a tirade about the elusive alien technology.

But she never thought the madness would hit the twins.

It started small, she’d find Troy talking to other bandits about the Vaults, about the potential of the power within for the bandit clan. Tyreen, being a Siren, claimed it was her birthright and being with the bandits, in extension, their birthright as well. 

After the twins returned from their mother’s grave, El Capitan knew something was off about them. They were no longer their boisterous self, but quiet. When she attempted to ask if they were feeling okay, they brushed her off or commented that everything was fine. 

But she knew it wasn’t.

It became more noticeable when she’d find her bandit technical gone, the twins leaving at random times of the day for a ‘joyride’ with several bandits, only for the two of them to return.

No bandits ever came back with them.

It got to the point the twins were banned from using the vehicles, but that didn’t deter them. Somehow, they managed to find a way to leave the main camp and return.

“Where have you two been?!” Pleione questioned, slamming her fist on the still sizzling technical, “I had strictly forbidden you from leaving the camp and using the vehicles!”

“Somewhere,” Troy said, annoyed, “Don’t worry about it.” Tyreen remained quiet, but annoyance was present on her face as well.

“I will worry about it! You and Tyreen have been disobeying me!” Pleione said, agitated, “You don’t know what’s out there!”

“We know what’s out there and YOU are the one afraid of it…” Troy spat out, “Always holed up here…”

“How dare you!” Pleione hissed out.

“It’s the truth… always keeping us in here…” Tyreen said, glaring at Pleione, “We’re not going to be waiting around to die here…”

“You dare speak to me that way?! I brought you two in!” Pleione growled out.

“You are not our mother!” Tyreen shouted.

_**SLAP!** _

Pleione gasped, realizing what she had done. Tyreen inhaled deeply, her cheek red. Troy was shocked, eyes wide. 

“I-I… I’m sorry…!” Pleione pleaded. Tyreen held her cheek, tears at the corner of her eyes as she stormed off. Troy glared at Pleione, immediately rushing after his sister. 

“T-Tyreen! Troy!” Pleione called out to them, desperate.

Everything was falling apart.

\------000000-------

Odie stepped into the rundown warehouse, the site where Donovan was killed. He found it fitting you’d run off to here of all places. The stench of decay was strong, all surfaces baring the remains of the Calypsos’ Harvest rituals. He made his way into the lower levels, the pipe rooms that used to house the steam boilers. As he traveled further, he saw Jackal. The priest had the Helenite gun out, nervous.

“Jackal..!” Odie shouted, running towards the priest, “What are you doing in here? Where’s my brother?!”

Jackal jumped, turning around, “D-Don’t do that…! We got separated, been trying to find him. I just hope.. she didn’t get to him….” 

“You mean…”

“S-She wasn’t all in… Something… That’s not her, Odie….” Jackal said, frightened, “We caught up with her…”

“She tried to harm you both?” Odie asked, fear now gnawing at him. His brother was stupid enough to follow you either way.

Jackal shook his head, “N-No… She just ventured further in the warehouse… normally she’d stay in the upper levels but now she’s gone deeper.”

“Alright, let’s go, we need to make sure she doesn’t go crazy,” Odie said, leading the way. Both the priest and the general, continued the narrow paths of pipes, careful with their steps. Walking down a corridor, they could hear someone talking.

Perseus.

“Fuck, he sounds okay, good,” Odie said, walking faster. They both reached a boiler room, part of the wall crumbled down.

Perseus was sitting on the floor across from you, his boots touching yours. You were hugging your knees, hair covering your face, back facing Odie. His brother noticed his presence, giving him a slight nod. Odie stepped into the pipe room, his footsteps echoing in the vast, empty room. Jackal remained in the hallway as lookout but peered in to check out the situation.

“Hey, you’re here, huh?” Odie asked, grinning. You didn’t respond. Perseus frowned, lips thin.

“Heard you made a ruckus by the throne room, threw stuff around,” Odie continued, seeing the Skullmashers bandit flag wrapped around your body. You didn’t budge.

“So, you were a Skullmasher bandit before the Calypsos raided it,” Odie observed, finally approaching you and Perseus. Once again, you didn’t respond, but hugged tighter the flag.

“Reckon they saw you and brought you in as a raid spoil,” the general said, “Pitted you in the arena for their own entertainment…” Perseus gave Odie a baffled look. You were already on extreme edge, having growled when Perseus got near. He had found you sitting by a rusted boiler, muttering something to yourself. 

“And that’s when it started, right? After your first fight,” Odie grinned, “When they showed interest in you.”

You snarled.

“I remember your first fight, throwing that Badass Psycho’s head at them,” Odie chuckled, crossing his arms, “Good shit. You might have tried to frightened them, but that made them more interested in you, right?”

You hissed. Perseus threw a pleading look at Odie to stop. Jackal watched, worried. They could see you shaking in your spot, your nails digging into your legs through the pant’s fabric. 

“Went downhill from there…. Troy showing interest in you, Helen getting involved… Tyreen getting jealous of my brother, Donovan and Helen trying to kill you.. Tyreen hurting you … A giant shit fest that you can no control over….” Odie continued, squatting down, staring at you, “You must have a lot of emotions bottled up… waiting to let loose…” You growled.

Odie narrowed his eyes, “You’re probably thinking, ‘I want to go back to Trinity…. to Master.’”

He laughed as jumped back, dodging a swing from you. Jackal ran inside, heading to Perseus who crawled back. You were now standing up, but hunched over, snarling and clutching to the bandit flag. 

“I didn’t ask for any of this!” you yelled, tears falling freely, “I didn’t ask for any of this…” Your expression dropped, neutral, hand twitching. 

Then you started to laugh, a gleeful smile on your lips.

Odie seemed amused, gauging your change in behavior. 

“I gave them what they wanted,” you said, tone void of emotion, but dangerously close to manic, the corner of your lip twitching, a sadistic grin replacing the smile, “They are greedy…”

“Oh, they are, believe me,” Odie agreed, grinning back. He motioned for Perseus and Jackal to step back. 

His brother refused.

“Odie…” Perseus pleaded, shaking his head, “T-That’s not…”

“Me?” you offered, smiling at Perseus, “It’s me, Perseus. Your friend, the plaything…” You laughed, wiping the tears from your face.

Odie deduced Perseus had seen this before if he was visibly uncomfortable with it. 

You pointed at Odie, cackling, “You don’t like your brother, want me to kill him for you?” Perseus and Jackal’s eye widen, even catching Odie off guard.

“W-What, d-don’t!” Perseus shouted. You paid no attention to him as you lunged forward, punching Odie on the face. Odie landed backwards, gagging as he spit out blood. You were smiling, popping your knuckles. 

“GET UP, TROY’S BITCH!” you shouted, taunting him, “I KILLED DONOVAN, MAYBE YOU SHOULD JOIN HIM AS WELL.” Odie got up, in time to dodge another punch. 

“B-Brother!” Perseus shouted, held back by Jackal.

“STAY BACK!” Odie ordered, grabbing a lead pipe from a debris pile, swinging at you. It landed across your face, but you were unfazed, causing you to laugh more. Odie did not predict this, only a vague idea from what Pip had told him and from your reactions on the Let’s Flays. 

You were feral.

You lunged at Odie again, both of you tossing, tumbling on the ground, landing punches and kicks on each other. The more Odie punched you, the more you became unhinged.

Pain was no issue for you at this point.

“F-Fuck!” Odie growled, holding his bleeding noise. His hands were sore, cuts stinging.

You laughed, bloody and bruised, hands twitching, “I want to tear into your flesh…. I want to feel the soft flesh…” You had a crazed look, tuning everything out.

Odie underestimated you. A frequent mistake to those who crossed your path.

Smearing the mixture of your and Odie’s blood on your face, your appearance was downright psychotic, lunatic. You prowled towards Odie, taking out Helen’s daggers, twirling them in your hands, gripping the blade, blood dripping to the ground.

_RED, RED, RED…… REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD_

You popped your neck, tugging at your own jaw.

_Red red red red red red red red red_

Your feet dragged on the floor. 

_AHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAH_

You brought the dagger up, licking the blade, laughing, “Give me your flesh… Prophet Odysseus.” Odie rolled over, dodging a stab motion from you, swinging the pipe at your knees causing you to howl in pain, but you devolved back into laughter. Odie kept swinging, causing you to stumble back. 

Snarling, you grabbed the pipe, pulling it towards you, headbutting Odie. The general took opportunity to jab at you in the stomach, elbowing you back on the face. He didn’t give you time to recover, upper cutting you. Landing on the ground, you curled up, coughing. 

“It seems you only understand via fists!” Odie shouted, spitting out more blood, hunched over, “I do admit you are one tough bitch.” He hadn’t this much of a challenge since he fought Troy years ago before the Blitzkriegs joined the Children of the Vault. 

“S-STOP! STOP IT!” Perseus yelled, grabbing Odie’s arm, “STOP!” Odie shoved him back, growling. 

“DON’T INTEREFE!” Odie hissed out, getting furious at his brother. 

“ODIE! WATCH OUT!” Jackal yelled, horrified. 

Odie was met with punch in the chest, throwing him backwards. The air in his lungs escaped, the general wheezing. He tried to get up, stumbling down, disorientated. Odie’s vision got hazy, Perseus’ shouting muffled, Jackal rushing over to the general.

You were slowly walking back towards Odie, unfazed from the previous onslaught the man had delivered.

A twisted smile was present in your face.

A blur got in front of Odie, the man hearing your footsteps halt as Jackal helped him sit up.

Perseus, extended his arms out, shouted, “STOP!”

“Perseus… get out of the fucking way!” you hissed out, glaring at him.

The mechanic stood defiant, shaking his head, “N-NO!” Odie looked up from the ground, breathing heavily, Jackal kneeling next to him, hoisting him up. 

“Get. Out. Of-“

“NO!” Perseus shouted again, crying now, “T-This isn’t you, Andromeda…”

You paused, tense.

/This isn’t like you. I know you are hurting…/ The little monster screeched, clawing at your mind, begging for you to continue.

“Please stop…” Perseus begged, sobbing, “Stop this… Don’t let the fear control you.”

**Fear.**

The little monster started to sob in your mind.

Your arms fell to the sides, your breathing evened out, staring at Perseus. 

“Y-You can’t let the fear… keep controlling you…” Perseus continued, slowly approaching you, “I know you’re scared… but you are not alone… You have me and Jackal…”

“Perseus…” Odie tried to reach out to his brother, afraid you might do something.

You hadn’t moved, head hanging low. 

“Andromeda… I know you’re in there…” Perseus stopped in front of you, wrapping his arms around you, “You’re not alone.” Unresponsive, but you were screaming internally.

You almost hurt Perseus.

**You almost hurt your friend.**

Hugging him back tight, you sobbed into his chest. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…. I’m sorry….” You cried out, body shaking, “I-I’m sorry…”

“He can’t hurt you anymore,” Perseus said, holding you, “Cetus can’t hurt you anymore…”

Cetus? Odie glanced at Jackal. The priest looked away, distressed.

“Who is this Cetus person?” Odie coughed out, breathing heavily. The name was not familiar in the wastes.

“Master,” Jackal and Perseus responded.

/Master controls everything, you think you own her? Oh no, he’s only loaning you that fucking bitch./

“You… You two need to tell me everything, anything she’s told you… and I will not accept a ‘no’ for answer,” Odie said, a grim feeling descending upon him. He had to determine if you’d pose a danger to the Calypsos and the CoV. 

You were losing control of your own will.

“W-We can’t-“ Jackal looked at you in Perseus’ arms. 

“Tell him…” you whispered, shaking, exhausted. You didn’t want to relive anything. 

**Tell him everything,** the little monster cried out.

\--------00000000000---------

“Tell me what happened…” Leto said, cupping Tyreen’s face in her hands. The Siren Calypso’s cheek was red, the slap still burning. 

“I got into a fight with El Capitan…” Tyreen said, looking away. Troy remained by their side, growling.

“But what exactly led to that?” Leto asked, frowning, “She seems nice…”

“Ty told her she wasn’t our ‘mother,’” Troy said, arms crossed. Leto was shocked, narrowing her eyes at Tyreen.

“Tyreen!” Leto said, upset. Tyreen pulled away, huffing.

“S-She’s not..” Tyreen said, clenching her fist. Troy glanced at her, tsking. 

“You can’t talk to her that way! She raised you, made sure you had a roof over your head, food on the table!” Leto added, exasperated, “I know you two have differences with her, but that was uncalled for!” The twins eyed Leto, afraid.

This was the first time they had seen her extremely anger in many years.

“She refuses to listen to us!” Tyreen countered, “We are unable to leave the camps or anything without an escort…” The escorts ended up here in the Red Vault.

Sacrifices for Mother.

“We won’t be able to go find this Great Vault or at least anything remotely related to a Vault map,” Troy said, sighing, “If we are stuck around these parts….” 

Leto stared at the twins, then down at the bloody ground.

“She’s an old bandit, right?”

Tyreen and Troy looked at her, surprised. She stared back at them, a neutral expression on her face.

“Not all bandit kings live forever, right?” she said, smiling.

The Terror of the Waste was no longer relevant.

Maybe it was time for El Capitan to retire as well.

\------0000000000---------

Odie’s bloody and beaten appearance caused alarm on the generals and the Calypsos when he returned back to the Surveillance Room. His grin did little to calm their anxious nerves.

“O-Odie, what the fuck happened to you?!” Basil questioned, going pale and scrunching his nose from the stench of blood.

“Uh, I tripped and fell down some stairs,” Odie said, nonchalantly, “Really, sharp… maybe blunt stairs.”

“I hope they weren’t rusty stairs…” Pip offered.

“Enough games, Odie!” Troy shouted, pissed off. It was enough for the general to have ordered him and Tyreen, of all people, to stay behind when Odie went to search for you.

Odie sighed, but yelped when his jaw made a popping noise, “Ow… Tyreen’s plaything and I had a disagreement about who is prettiest one. I won, of course.” The twins sniffed, getting a hint of your blood on Odie.

“What did you do…” Tyreen growled, “You better not have…!”

“I better not have what? Well, I was correct, she snapped,” Odie flashed a thumbs up at the group, “Man, she packs a punch, real good.” 

“Snapped?” Pip looked at the twins, “Oh…. I see..”

“Where is she?” Tyreen asked, ignoring Pip’s questioning look. 

“She’s fine, don’t worry about it. My brother and priest Jackal are tending to her right now, I suggest not to summon her at the moment,” Odie said, opening his mouth several times, “Damn, Pip, you’re gonna have to check me out later, I think she was going for my jaw.”

The medic general snickered, “At least its intact.”

“Heheh, it sure is. Speaking of intact shit, may I have word with you two?” Odie asked, gesturing at the twins. 

“Whatever you have to say, do it in front of the others,” Troy growled out, agitated with the present situation. 

“I rather not,” Odie protested, “I’m serious about this.”

“Ey, we’ll take a quick break from looking at the Twin Gods glaring at their mortal enemy: the wall,” Pip said, laughing as he headed towards the door. Basil held his nose as he passed by Odie, exiting. Moksha threw a cloth at Odie, following the others. 

The right-hand man glanced at the door, then back at the twins. Troy and Tyreen, anxious, waited on Odie.

“Yeah, I got into a fight with the plaything,” Odie stated. Troy snarled, holding back Tyreen who was about to lunge at Odie.

“What the fuck?! HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER!” Tyreen shouted, baring her teeth, her Siren tattoos flaring dangerously.

“Tyreen….” Troy hissed out, pulling her back. 

Odie stared at them, debating how to continue. Perseus and Jackal, with your permission, told him everything… everything about your brother Hephaestus, the Vipers, Trinity and Cetus, the experiments… the family life you had and lost, Circe and Blue… your fate at the hands of the Rat King… your escape… living with the Skullmashers.

Meeting the Calypsos.

The little monster.

The Mad Queen you tried to keep under wraps.

/ You think she’s some innocent little shit? Under that false façade… a fucking monster awaits, waiting to tear into flesh./

Molded by Cetus as a sick fantasy.

His attack dog.

Now resurfacing by the Calypsos’ doing.

And Odie barely survived an encounter by the intervention of his brother, Perseus.

“Odie…?”

Odie had been staring at the floor, his vision fixated on a blood spot he left behind. He glanced back at them.

“How serious are you two?” Odie asked, conflicted.

The twins were confused.

“Serious?” Troy inquired, seeking a clarification. Tyreen eased up, lost as well.

“About the plaything,” Odie stated, “How serious are you two about her?” His erratic behavior was uncommon for a man who usually sought to make people uncomfortable. 

“You are not making any sense-“

“Is it a fucking fling! Some weird sexual tension shit, boner you have for her?” Odie spat out, unable to string words correctly. His mind was flooded with emotions of extreme anger intermixed with fear. Desperation was getting to him. The Calypsos’ responses would determine your fate in the CoV.

The general’s comment surprised the twins.

“….Are you… Are you implying…” Tyreen said, glaring at Odie.

“Odie, you better fucking think your words through..” Troy threatened.

Odie pulled at his hair, still struggling, “I’m fucking asking you if you are fucking serious about her. Why are you two so damn obsessed with her?!” 

Obsession.

Were the Calypsos obsessed with you? They had seen the Rat King’s shrine to you, the corpse with the bloody white dress and red flowers, photos of your stay with Trinity, snipped and assembled to cut away the other people in the shots, with an offering of broken jaws and chains. 

That was obsession. 

Pure, unhinged, disturbing obsession. 

Had you compared the Calypsos to the Rat King’s level of obsession?

“Did she tell you that….?” Tyreen asked, dread bubbling up in her. 

“She didn’t tell me anything, I’m asking you a fucking question!” Odie shouted. Tyreen shot him a warning look but the general didn’t back down. 

“I told you both to resolve this damn issue with her, but you didn’t listen! Never!” Odie raised his arms up, frustrated, “I suggest you two just drop this bullshit crap you got going on with her and move on.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are talking to us like that?!” Troy snarled, getting on Odie’s face, jaws threatening to open. 

“The only fucking sane person here,” Odie hissed back, “Trying to keep this damn place from getting destroyed!” Donovan attempted that, trying to kill you.

The heathen general failing to do so.

“Your predecessor tried doing that, and he’s dead,” Tyreen growled, “You want to join him as well? I’m sure there’s a stake somewhere just for your fucking head!”

“Oh, funny you mention that, the plaything did tell me about Donovan, fun times,” Odie said, breaking the mood, “Jackal killed him, wished I was there for that.”

“ODIE!” Troy snapped his jaws, glaring at the general.

“Heh, you two have no chance with her.”

Troy grabbed Odie by his shoulders while Tyreen stepped forward, angry.

He seemed unfazed, continuing, “She hates you both. I’m sure you know that….”

“S-Shut up!” Tyreen yelled, breathing heavily, “S-Shut your fucking mouth!” She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to be reminded.

/We remind her of Master./

Troy let go of Odie, walking away, hissing. 

/Losing ourselves to pieces of filth./

“That Master guy really hurt her,” Odie said, the twins now focusing their attention back to him, “Used and abused… man, she has piss luck.”

“W-What did she tell you..?” Troy asked, curious but afraid of what Odie would spit out.

“She was discarded by this Master douche,” Odie said, voice laced with pity for you, “That’s why she orbits around Perseus and Jackal, she doesn’t feel abandoned by them.” Used.

“W-We tried… talking to her-“ Abused.

“Your fucking reputations precede you,” Odie cut Troy off, “Father Troy, fucking womanizer and dudes included, jumping on the next thing he likes which is the God Queen’s plaything while pushing away his previous lover… God Queen Tyreen, casting fear on others, wanting her plaything to submit to her… Condensed version, eh?”

“T-That was in the past…” Tyreen said, remembering the beating vividly, “I-I’m not like that with her…” She wanted for you to trust her. 

“But the fear is still present, Tyreen,” Odie said, “This Master guy apparently sweet talks people while keeping a presentable face before lashing out… sound familiar?”

Tyreen heard herself being described, throat tightening. That’s why you kept yourself at a distance from her when recovering from the beating, believing her ‘sweet’ actions held a sinister intent, waiting for you to drop your guard before she’d harm you.

**You were afraid of Tyreen.**

“Master wooed her with sweet words… deadly gifts… turning her into his little killer,” Odie stared at Troy.

Troy looked away. 

The same thing he did to Helen when he first met her. That reminded you of Master’s doing. 

/I saw myself in her…/

**You were disgusted by Troy.**

The reason you’d rejected Troy at any turn when he attempted to reason with you. You only saw yourself as another conquest for the Twin God, replacing the previous discarded ‘bedwarmer.’ The only thing keeping him at bay was Tyreen and your threats.

“Thrown aside when she was no use to him,” Odie shook his head, “But of course, we know he wants her back, though I’m still wondering why he hasn’t yet. That’s besides the point I’m trying to make here.”

“What do you suggest Odie..?” Troy asked, quietly. 

“I still stand with my suggestion… or…” Odie said, trailing off.

“Or…?” Tyreen asked, feeling dread. She didn’t want to hear it, already knowing what the general would say.

“Let her go. Let her leave this place,” Odie had seen first-hand how dangerous you were. 

Donovan had been aware of it. 

You were aware of it.

You were slipping. 

And you were afraid.

**You almost hurt your friend.**

\-------00000000000--------

Bandits hurting each other with punches was one thing. Backstabbing was another. It was a way of life in the wastes, friends being difficult to come by, staring down the barrel of a gun, or being eaten by the wildlife.

But for the loves of your life to betray you.

That hurt more than a bullet.

Pleione chuckled, close to a coughing fit, as she took out her gun, loading the pistol, “I hate it when things come to this, but I suppose it was bound to happen.” The twins were staring at her, the bandits congregating behind them.

It was a coup. 

Pleione, the mighty, ruthless El Capitan, ignored the red flags of the shifting loyalty, the clandestine meetings between her bandits and the Calypsos….

“It is what is, El Capitan, we’re taking over,” Troy said, pointing his blade at her, “You had a long run, retirement calls.” Tyreen stood next to him, her Siren tattoos glowing brightly.

“Yeah, yeah, you youngsters and hopes and dreams,” she said, smiling, “Glad to see this happen, I taught you two well…” She removed her regal jacket, holding it out. The once tall, commanding woman seemed small, little without it.

“Tyreen.”

Tyreen jumped a bit, glancing at the old bandit lord and the jacket.

“Wear it proudly my child.”

Troy frowned, urging Tyreen to step forward. His sister approached the aging bandit, grabbing the jacket. 

“Put it on,” she requested. Tyreen held the jacket, her hands slightly shaking. The jacket was too big for her, but it had hugged the shoulders of the fearsome El Capitan for many years. She remembered her and Troy hiding in it during the dust storms or seeking warmth during the cold seasons. 

Now the mantle was being passed to her.

She placed the jacket on, adjusting the large collar around her, putting the clasps on the golden chains. Pleione smiled, “Regal, god-like…Never kneel for anyone…”

The twins stared at her. God-like?

“No better people to take over my camps, long live the Twin Gods! LONG LIVE THE CALYPSOS!” she shouted, putting the pistol on the side of her head, pulling the trigger. 

_**BANG!**_

Her body fell forward with a thud, blood seeping from the headshot wound. A smile was still present in her lips.

She died happy. Backstabbed.

Tyreen turned to face Troy, her expression unreadable. Troy grimaced, nodding slowly.

The bandits behind them knelt in reverence, “LONG LIVE THE CALYPSOS! LONG LIVE THE TWIN GODS!”

Troy chuckled, Tyreen standing next to him as she fixed her jacket, “Long live El Capitan…”

“Long live El Capitan..” Tyreen whispered, her Siren tattoos flaring, smirking.

From death, a new beginning.

The Children of the Vault.

\--------000000000----------

Pip was out smoking in front of the main complex, joined by the other generals, waiting for Odie and the twins to finish their discussion. For the bubbly general to be nervous was worrisome for the old medic general, having known Odie from the beginning of the Children of the Vault. If the right-hand man had encountered you, survived a beating, something was seriously wrong.

“Wonder how long they’ll take…” Basil said, eyeing the main gates into the main complex, “We’re expecting company today.”

“Shoot, I forgot, that Katagawa tool?” Moksha asked, scratching her head, “What an unfortunate time for him to come by…” A ping came through on their EchoNet devices, Mouthpiece reporting an approaching Maliwan convoy. 

“Best they wrap this up, let’s go to the gates,” Pip said, the generals nodding, following him. Armed cultists had dispersed the crowds, Motuhpiece announcing everyone to stay indoors and anyone caught out would be shot in sight. The Calypsos had gotten word from Katagawa that the siege on Atlas would be soon, the next shipment of parts would boost their forces as a way to thin out Atlas CEO’s Rhys’s army. 

Armed bruisers were at the main gates, bowing at the generals who saw the Maliwan convoys approach followed by several transportation trucks and airships. Maliwan soldiers surrounded an armored, metallic white vehicle, the insignia of the company embellished on the sides. The vehicle stopped, signling that others to halt.

Pip, having the seniority of the generals, stepped forward, meeting the soldiers, “We have been expecting you. The Twin Gods will be pleased by your visit.”

“We have brought the equipment that Mister Katagawa requested for us to deliver,” one of the bulkier soldiers responded, gesturing at the large trucks behind the armored vehicle.

“Did Mister Katagawa come after all?” Pip asked, eyeing the soldiers, a bit unease. He wondered if the serum Fanatics could make a dent on them.

The soldier did not respond, only stepping aside when the armored vehicle’s door was opened by another soldier, a man stepped out, his Panama hat covering his face. He was wearing an all-white business suit, a gold cloth shawl draped around his shoulders, his green shirt matching the Maliwan green, the letters displayed on the tie. A visible silver band was on his right ring finger, the sun striking it at an angle when the man held his hat.

He walked forward, stopping by the soldiers.

“Mister Katagawa?” Pip inquired, furrowing his eyebrows. He didn’t recall Katagawa being too serious.

The man only smiled. Winona stepped out of the vehicle, her heels clicking against the wasteland ground, carrying an attaché case, fixed her glasses as she approached the man and Pip.

“Mr. Katagawa was unavailable, so he sent me on his stead,” the man replied, his yellow eyes hinting innocence. 

“I see and you are…?” Pip glanced at Winona, then back at the man. Moksha and Basil observed, curious. The man removed his hat, placing it by his chest, his green hair swaying a bit with the wind.

**“Cetus.”**

\-------000000000--------

A video starts, the inside of a lab is shown with various hologram schematics, tanks filled with bodies with grotesque features submerged in purple liquid, various broken Eridian artifacts are strewn on a metal table under the glaring light of the overhead lamp and part of the floor is littered with robotic parts. 

The camera adjusts, the view is focused on an older man with receding black hair, unkept beard, heavy wrinkles under his eyes with visible eyebags. He’s wearing a lab coat, his uniform underneath displaying Atlas colors and another symbol, similar to a Vault emblem. The man clears his throat, starts coughing.

“This is Pietro Juno, one of the lead researchers of the GORTYS Project and head researcher of the Calypso Project. I have been informed about the untimely death of the head researcher for the GORTYS Project, Hephaestus Juno… Time and date of death was [static]. Cause of death [static],” Pietro is visibly agitated, a small sob escapes, “The higher-ups have deemed his loss too great to continue the Calypso Project. Therefore, the project is terminated.”

He briefly pauses, looking away from the camera, before continuing, “Commandant Steele has been sent to Pandora due to her actions with the project.” His tone was of anger. The main reason for pale Siren’s banishment not being divulged.

“Hephaestus’s research in the Eridian artifacts acquired from Pandora and other planets suggest the presence of the Destroyer …” Pietro states, “Information that matches up with what… with what she predicted…”

“With what Gaia Juno foresaw,” Pietro adds, looking at the camera. 

His wife. The previous Atlas Siren.

He lost his wife many years ago.

Now his son was dead.

His daughter was missing.

“Last intel we received from the Delta group prior to their demise was the twin’s location by the wastes… several bandit clans reside there. They may come across either the Terror of the Waste’s Viper clan or El Capitan,” Pietro’s gaze went off the screen, “Gaia said it didn’t matter where they ended… the outcome would be the same.”

He swallows hard, “I will continue the GORTYS Project as per the instructions you sent over. Do what you will with the Calypso Siren and the Singularity. Its out of my hands if Atlas decides to interfere again and retrieve them… which would prove difficult… Tyreen’s powers have been growing too fast than what her body can handle.”

He gazes at the bodies inside the purple liquid, “Although, you need the boy alive. That’s what Atlas failed to realize. Tyreen can’t exist without Troy and viceversa.”

“The GORTYS Project needs them both alive if you want this to succeed,” Pietro said, looking back at the camera, his expression hinting fear.

“If everything… if everything falls into place… with the information Gaia left behind…” the man’s voice faltered, shaken.

“War is coming.”

A blue upside-down triangle flashes on the screen.

Trinity.

The video cuts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 40K words of angst.
> 
> But at least I can say next chapter... will have cuddles and kisses... I'm sure everyone wants that already with all these sad feels xD
> 
> • w• Now, what will the Calypsos decide to do with the Reader? :DD
> 
>  
> 
> Quick Info
> 
> This fanfic (and this chapter) was created before the reveal of in-depth info for Promethea, the Children of the Vault, and the Calypso Twins. Of course, with the recent extended BL3 gameplay, the supposed ‘origin' story of the twins has been revealed alongside their type of twin status. (Seriously, Gearbox.)
> 
> As for the twin’s character behavior, I’ll try to write them as close as possible to canon, albeit with minor changes of course. They are still douchebags, just soft with the Reader… who happens to be a douchebag as well. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Complete douchebaggery around this parts.
> 
> Comments and kudos feed this tiny gremlin! :D


	8. The Plaything (Part 1 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gods in myth have been known to fall in love with mortals, but it always ends in tragedy.
> 
> Can the Calypsos change that with you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Chapter 8 was originally written as a massive single chapter, but after giving much thought to it and asking peeps in Tumblr, I decided to split it. It contains a lot of info, so I think it will work as to not overwhelm the readers! xD I trimmed it to a certain area to stop. Second part of Chapter 8 will be posted later in the month.
> 
> \-----00000-----
> 
> CW: Extreme punishment, violence, mentions of implied rape, graphic sexual content, mention of suicide attempt, mentions of necrophilia
> 
> As always, not beta-read, but butter spread.

\-----0000000-----

Perseus stared at your sleeping form, bringing up a blanket, tucking you in. You never stopped crying, begging for forgiveness as he and Jackal helped you out of the Harvest grounds. Odie reassured them that you wouldn’t be punished in any way since the general technically goaded you into attacking. The mechanic sighed, looking at the Skullmashers bandit flag discarded by a chair. 

You desperately clung to it, only after passing out did he managed to pull it away. It had been many months after the bandit clan’s demise, he recalled ‘celebrating’ it when he heard the Calypsos were successful in the raid. Granted, this was before he even met you. 

The Skullmashers were long dead, their corpses rotting away and yet you remembered them. The same thing happened to Helen, you clinging to her memory.

“Perseus.”

“Yeah?” he asked, not looking away.

“Do you think what Odie said was true?” Jackal asked, stepping into the small room adjacent to his study, “That the Calypsos are serious about her?” It was the inescapable predicament, the reason you snapped before going to the throne room. 

“You heard the God Queen when she talked to me…” Perseus whispered, frowning, “She told me she loved Andromeda.” She didn’t know your name; the mechanic saw the claim as ludicrous. Although, he gave her credit in trying to be your friend.

“What about Father Troy?” Perseus asked Jackal, “Especially with Helen…” A sensitive subject that irritated to you to no end.

Jackal sighed, looking away, “My daughter was still in love with him despite his attention turning elsewhere… I couldn’t control that... But I do believe in some degree Troy does care for Andromeda, he hardly left her side when she was in the infirmary.” Even threatening Tyreen to be away from you. 

“She did save his life,” Perseus added, remembering the dreadful night from the Atlas stronghold. 

They both got quiet, sighing.

….

“Odie warned about the Calypsos approaching her again,” Perseus said, gulping, “What should we do?”

“I warned her about them, we know she realizes that,” Jackal said, rubbing his face, “But we just saw what happened with her getting angry at them.”

“…Are we okay with this?” Perseus asked.

“We don’t have much of a choice, they run this place, Perseus,” Jackal replied, shaking his head, “Least we can do is counsel her about any future interactions with the Calypsos.” 

The priest had seen his daughter die because of it. He didn’t want the same fate for you.

The mechanic had seen you ‘slip’ with the little monster, itching to fight. He knew you didn’t like that.

“A shoulder to cry on is what we can offer as well,” Perseus said, petting you on the head. 

\-------0000000--------

Hands roamed your body, the touch further exhilarating your pleasure, heightened by the scent of fresh blood from the cuts and gashes of your recent fight. A warm tongue licked your neck, teeth gently biting into your soft flesh, eliciting a low moan from you. The heavy weight of a body over your own sunk your body further into the bed, every thrust shooting a euphoric rush in you, a joyous chorus of whines and whimpers escaped your lips. 

No words were exchanged. The simple gasps, shrills were enough to display your contentment, savoring the moment. 

Your prize. Victorious in the ring.

Through the dim light seeping through the blackened-out curtains, Cetus’s silhouette intermingled with yours, the shadows casted on an opposite wall playing out the action on the bed. The bodies became one, tense, reaching their peak.

Ecstasy, your mind flooded with the sensation, your body begging for more contact, your arms wrapping around Cetus’ neck, keeping him close. He kissed you, dominating, growling, enjoying your submission to him. He parted from you, smirking, his yellow eyes entrancing you.

You stared back. 

Circe was staring down at you, smirking. Cetus was gone, replaced by the red-headed woman, nude, her hands wandering freely on your body. She gave a hard thrust, jolting your body back alive, her hips meeting yours. She grabbed your hand, kissing it tenderly, keeping her rhythm. Soft gasps and the little whines let the alluring woman know that she was hitting the correct spots, pleasing her. 

“My beautiful Andromeda…” Circe whispered, nuzzling your hand, “My Queen…”

The woman loved you despite your heart was set for someone else. You wanted dearly to love her back, show her the same amount of devotion as you did to Cetus, but she shushed you, saying that she couldn’t ‘force’ you to love her.

“As long as you let me close to you… that’s enough for me…” Circe said, letting go of your hand, leaning forward, thrusting faster, “As long as you let me worship you... that’s enough for me…” You held on to her shoulders, your body on fire, meeting her rhythm. 

You always let her be close to you.

You always let her worship you in her own way.

Perhaps this was a way to show your ‘love’ to her? 

Circe kissed you, feeling your arms desperately clinging to her. She didn’t stop her pace, even as you orgasmed, your body shuddering underneath her lithe body. You shut your eyes, Circe’s lips meeting your neck, kissing the skin. 

“I love you…”

You opened your eyes, freezing up.

Tyreen was hovering over you, her Siren tattoos glowing brightly as she thrusted, sweat rolling down her forehead, her hair sticking to the sides of her face. She parted your legs further, wanting more friction, contact with you. You clawed at the purple bedsheets, noticing your surroundings had changed. 

You were no longer in the room you’d share with Cetus and Circe at Trinity, but in the God Queen’s personal living quarters, whisked away after the arena fight. The soft lights hanging from above the bed gave the dark room a holy glow, the mesh red and pink curtains surrounding it closing off vision from the rest of the bedroom. The bed creaked with every desperate thrust of Tyreen, her moans mixed with yours. Her hands explored your body, discovering fresh and old wounds, pressing down and healing them. 

“My beautiful doll,” Tyreen whispered, moaning, “Let the God Queen take care of you…” Your body complied, relaxing under her touch. Every thrust, every grunt, and the crackling of Tyreen’s energy drove you to edge. The lights danced around, your mind hazy, spinning around. You focused on the bedrest, noticing the carved CoV symbol on it, more intricate than what you remembered. The walls of the room collapsed, revealing a never-ending sea of darkness. Candles littered the floor near the bed, lighting up, creating a more eerie ambient. 

It was an altar. 

Tyreen’s kiss on your chest snapped you out of your thoughts.

_“Worship you…”_

You arched your back, breathing heavily.

_“Give your flesh…”_

Tyreen’s fingertips teased your burning skin. 

_“I love you…”_

\------00000000--------

Tyreen saw herself being ‘loved’ by bandits, worshipped and sought after. Everywhere she went, droves of bandits would follow, hoping for a small glance or a favor. A Siren, a goddess walking among mortals. An ethereal being among the lowliest of low in the galaxy.

She was always the center of attention.

Growing up in the infamous El Capitan’s camp, Tyreen made her own reputation. Long was gone the little girl afraid of bandits, replaced by a ferocious woman who would smite those who dared to cross the line with her own Siren powers. Despite her size, she casted a long shadow over her brother Troy who remained in the sidelines. 

The once inseparable siblings were drifting apart, each with their own goals and desires. Troy seemed to be fine with this at times despite his own marks. No one, including himself and Tyreen, knew if those marks were of a ‘true’ Siren. 

However, there was only one room for a Siren in the wastes.

Tyreen.

The brightest star. 

Pleione always made sure to give both of them equal amount of attention, reminding them they needed each other. One couldn’t survive with the other. Opposite sides of the coin. A balance had to be achieved. 

An advice not heeded at the time. 

Troy did his own thing, not caring about his sister’s actions, Tyreen doing the same. Whatever Tyreen wanted, she would get. And she always got it no matter the cost or who got in the way, including her brother.

After Pleione’s death and the subsequent rise of the Calypsos in the wastes, Tyreen’s behavior drastically changed. She viewed the other bandits with disdain, unworthy of her. While Troy slept with others, she remained alone. The few times she gave someone attention, other high-ranking bandits from the other camps, they never lasted long – alive. Tyreen gave them plenty of chances, but those she bed would eventually shoot their mouth off, bragging about ‘shacking’ up with a Siren. 

Using her as a way to elevate their social status among bandits.

Those bandits met gruesome deaths, courtesy of Tyreen. 

She grew bored, jumping from one ‘bedwarmer’ to another, all of them meeting the same fate. Eventually, she stopped seeking someone, coming to terms that there would be no one to be at her level. 

**Someone worthy to stand next to her.**

As her and Troy created and expanded their bandit camps, evolving to the Children of the Vault, those that wish to serve both mind and body found her unattainable. The glorious God Queen was holy, high above others. She soaked in the praises, compliments, and pledges of the waves of bandits united under the CoV flag. Anywhere she looked, all eyes were on her. 

She loved that. 

But sometimes…

**It gets lonely on top.**

At first, it didn’t bother her, not having to deal with someone who would be clingy, brag to others about her intimacy, or being a weakling. Troy, who remained in the shadows, sought company, more approachable to others. Eventually, Tyreen would get jealous at how easy he had it, dismissing his lovers in pretext that he was going soft, much to the displeasure of Troy.

The rift once again began. 

It was a constant argument between the two. Soon, once the CoV became a menacing force, Troy brought up an idea.

Playthings.

Spoils from raids to entertain the generals and the twins. It was fair game, taking in prisoners and using them for whatever means they wanted: target practice, labor, experiments. Those that would catch the higher-ranks’ eye, they could be taken in as playthings. The idea soon took off, their generals choosing playthings. Rules were set, but always broken, Troy being the cause of it with his penchant of killing everyone else’s playthings, including the short-lived ones of Tyreen.

The Calypsos began broadcasting more about the raids, garnering galactic followers, Let’s Flays, bloody mayhem, their influence expanding via the EchoNet.

But the one that became extremely popular were the Let’s Flay: The Plaything Series: a battle royale pitting playthings against each other for the sole entertainment of the Calypsos, their generals, and the cultists as celebration for successful raids. Plaything after plaything, raid after raid, bloody fights all around, the cultists and CoV fans were in love with the series. 

And so was Tyreen, engrossed in the action, high from the bloody chaos. Though, it would sour whenever her own playthings would get killed immediately.

“Weaklings…” Tyreen would hiss out upon seeing her playthings get maimed, “Fucking filth…”

Troy would laugh at her, “Sucks to be you! They may look cute but holy shit they are such pussies in the arena!”

She would clench her fists, gritting her teeth. She would dote on her playthings, giving them everything within her power, but they always failed her in the arena.

Tyreen had no time for pathetic playthings. It got to the point Troy would kill them when he would notice her neglecting them for shits and giggles even though she’d protest and get upset. As their influence grew and got preoccupied with other matters, the series ended, but the playthings remained. The other generals would still participate, but Tyreen did not.

Until a certain bandit caught her eye. 

The raid of the Skullmashers bandit camp was ongoing, majority of the bandits were dead, having no chance to win against the overpowered CoV and Troy out in the field. Tyreen was bored, watching Troy deal with the bandit leader and the remaining bandits. Mouthpiece had been recording the raid as per her instructions to show to their followers, rack up views, and gain new recruits under the CoV name. 

“Fucking Troy, taking forever, he needs to speed it up!” Tyreen growled out, rolling her eyes. 

She watched the feed, perking up when a bandit punched Troy in the face, causing her brother to stagger back. Shocked, she straightened up, eyes glued to the screen. The bandit delivered punch after punch, using bots to anchor Troy down, and continuing the onslaught. Tyreen was surprised, seeing Troy being overwhelmed.

“Mouthpiece! Keep an eye on them!” Tyreen ordered, preparing to leave the technical she was in.

“Yes, my God Queen! Will you be joining the fight?” Mouthpiece asked.

“Yeah, I need to see this up close! Troy getting beaten up!” Tyreen said, too excited, quickly exited the vehicle. She dashed to the camp, just in time to see Troy getting punched again by the bandit. 

A woman. 

Her face held an expression of pure anger and exhaustion, adrenaline high. Tyreen stared at the woman, feeling something bubble up. Curiosity? The woman was focused in her fight with Troy, never backing down. As much as she loved seeing her followers’ zealot devotion when entering the battlefield, this woman’s demeanor radiated something else.

Something dangerous.

Something alluring.

Tyreen grinned.

A new plaything.

\-------0000000000--------

Exhausted, you forced yourself to wake up, the surreal dream unnerving you. Part of your body ached, remnants of the fight with Odie at the Harvest grounds. You couldn’t recall much, only the heavy scent of blood. Curling up in the bed, you whimpered, keeping the tears at bay. Small noises and chatter alerted you of the adjacent room’s occupants. Eyeing around, you realized you were back in the Cathedral, in Jackal’s study. 

Getting up, you saw the old bandit flag of the Skullmashers draped on a chair, the one ripped from the Calypsos’ main hall. Sighing, you rubbed your head, ignoring the bandages around your arms. You left the room, seeing Jackal and Perseus engrossed at the workbench, the mechanic showing the priest what he was working on.

“Hey…” you said, leaning against the doorframe. Both of them turned around, worry present on their faces.

“Andromeda!” Jackal said, walking over to you, “How are you feeling? I managed to patch up most of your injuries…” You smiled, squeezing the priest’s arm.

“I’ll be okay… thanks for looking after me…” you replied, looking at Perseus, “I’m sorry…”

Perseus got up, bringing you in for a hug, being careful with your injuries, “You scared us… At least my brother got to be the punching bag this time and not the Calypsos…” You tensed up at the mention of the twins, but relaxed when Perseus rubbed your back.

“W-What happened...?” you asked, afraid. 

“Condensed version? Hmm… you got angry before we entered the throne room, you left, me and Perseus followed you to the Harvest grounds… Odie came by, you and him got into it…. And well, you’re here,” Jackal said, shrugging, “Good news, the Twin Gods have the Vault information, so I doubt they will summon you any time soon…”

You hoped.

“Fuck… so… I slipped huh…” you muttered, holding your head, “I just…”

“Snapped?” Perseus offered, “Also… you recall giving us permission to tell my brother about… you know…”

Your life prior to the Calypsos.

You nodded, sighing, “I do remember that… Its best he knows... I don’t know what your brother will plan now with that information...”

“If it makes you feel any better, I doubt he’ll tell anything to the Calypsos,” Perseus said, “He may be a nosy fucker, but he has some standards…”

“Pft, that is true,” Jackal mused, “Maybe a few things, but not the whole story…”

You rolled your eyes, “What an honorable bandit.” Perseus chuckled, Jackal smiling a bit. The mood eased in the room. You sat on the couch, leaning back.

“So… about that thing you mentioned…” Jackal started, retrieving a pitcher with water, filling a cup and handing it to you, “You told Troy you were ‘Master’s lover’?”

You drank the water, hiccupping, “I did… ugh… why?” You almost had a freak-out before the raid convoy left.

“My brother told us… what they found at the Rat King’s stronghold…” Perseus added, “He said they found… a shrine to you…”

The Rat King had been obsessed with you since the first day you were captured. He had been your handler alongside Cepheus, the bandit lord always making lewd comments or gestures towards you. The old Terror of the Waste would scold him, reminding the bandit that you belonged to Cetus.

No one else was allowed touch you without Cetus’s permission. 

“Rat King… seems like all this time he was still into me… disgusting...” you muttered, downing the rest of the water, “Let me guess, some candid photos?”

“Yeah…” Jackal said, uncomfortable, “He said… some of them were explicit…” Perseus looked at you.

“Heh… I’m surprised he knew how to operate a fucking camera,” you rubbed your face, annoyed the Calypsos may had seen some ‘questionable’ photos, “He probably got them from one of Cetus’ lackeys or some shit…”

“He didn’t ra-“ You shot Perseus a look, the mechanic stopping short in his sentence. He was worried, downright frowning.

“No. He tried, but I gave him a nasty gash for him to remember me by… I told you this already…” you whispered, gulping. It had been a close call, using the Rat King’s lust for you to your advantage.

To escape.

“…We wanted to make sure…” Jackal added, “Odie said they found a corpse with a white dress, covered in blood… it had red flowers in it.” You sniffed, pinching your wrist again. Perseus stopped you.

“Andromeda…” Perseus said, shaking his head, “I know you trusted us with the information... but please trust us when you are feeling overwhelmed… its never good to have it bottled up…”

You closed your eyes, tears free. 

A burden you carried by yourself.

“That’s right… you are not alone…” Jackal said, smiling, resting his hand on your shoulder, “We have each other, a little mayhem to go around, right?”

This brought a smile to your lips, chuckling.

“Thank you…” you whispered.

Perseus and Jackal.

Your anchors. Small blessings in this insane, unforgiving world.

\-------000000000-------

The woman proved to have a ferocious attitude, not afraid to lash out or initiate a fight, features that proved amusing for the God Queen. Tyreen, excited, was head over heels over her new plaything, eager to see what the woman had in store for her. Unlike the other playthings she had, Tyreen was sure that the bandit was no ordinary weakling. Upon a closer inspection as her priests grabbed the woman, she could see scars: new and old. 

Signs of a seasoned fighter.

Tyreen smirked, enjoying the woman’s display of anger as the priests struggled to keep her restrained. The way the woman’s eyebrows creased to display displeasure, the snarls, the growls. 

Feral. 

The other playthings were pathetic, frail and a waste of her time.

Tyreen was eager to see the woman in the arena.

The revival of the Let’s Flay: The Plaything Series.

\----00000------

The Calypsos were in their throne room when the generals escorted Cetus, Winona, and the Maliwan envoy into the main complex, the soldiers sticking close the Maliwan man. Pip took notice of Odie’s disappearance, chalking it up as the general changing out from his bloody clothes. 

“My God Queen, Mr. Katagawa was unable to attend the meeting,” Pip announced, bowing, “Mr. Cetus has been sent as his representative.”

“Huh, why, bandit wasteland too much for him?” Troy mused, crossing his arms. Cetus had a neutral expression, eyeing the area around.

“I’m the Head of the Public Relations Department of Maliwan. This is my assistant, Winona,” Cetus said, gesturing to Winona who gave them a curt nod, “Mr. Katagawa and the Maliwan board of directors had an emergency meeting.”

“Well then, I suppose we will have to do without him. So, you brought the goods?” Tyreen said, looking down at him, Winona, and the others from her throne, “Katagawa promised us higher tech for this Atlas siege of his.”

Winona stepped forward, opening the attaché case that converted to a floating stand, revealing diagrams of several elemental gun parts and gun skeletons. 

“The best we can offer,” Winona answered, “We included the base of the gun for added ability to include other weapon manufactures as stated in the manifest sent to Mr. Katagawa.”

“Shipment trucks have been sent to the warehouse, my God Queen,” Moksha informed, approaching Winona, “We will be having the mechanics start unloaded and sort out the parts.” Winona handed her the case, stepping back to Cetus. The man kept glancing at the bandit banners on the wall.

Tyreen stood up from her throne, smirking, “Excellent, it’s nice to have a corporate sponsor.” 

Troy chuckled, “What, didn’t know there were a bunch of bandit clans?”

“Not every day I interact with bandits I’m afraid,” Cetus replied, “Especially, uh, pardon me… Livestreamers?”

Troy laughed, approaching Cetus, smacking him on the back, “I doubt someone from your caliber even knows what that is.” Winona’s eyes widen a bit, fighting the snarl threatened to appear on her lips.

Cetus composed himself, “I don’t follow ‘online’ trends, but I do have a daughter who keeps up with that…”

“Oh, maybe she follows us then?” Tyreen grinned, approaching the group, “Wouldn’t be the first… teen?” 

Cetus nodded, “Just hitting those teenage years I’m afraid.” The generals chuckled, amused. One of the side doors barged open, startling everyone, Troy rolling his eyes. Odie had kicked the doors, stepping back into the throne room in clean clothes.

“Damn, that shit is going to be difficult to clea-“ Odie smiled, all eyes on him, “Oh, a guest! I love guests!” 

“Odie..!” Troy scolded him, watching the general walk towards them. Cetus tilted his head, curious. Winona fixed her glasses, observing.

“Sup, corporate scumbag,” Odie said, extending his hand out, grinning, “I’m Odysseus, or Odie for short, known as Troy’s Bitch after dark.” Troy and Tyreen gawked, the other generals shocked. Winona was baffled, not expecting an introduction like that. Cetus blinked, looking down at Odie’s hand. 

He took the general’s hand, shaking it, “Cetus.”

Odie’s grin grew large, “Heh, nice.” The general screamed internally. He let go of Cetus’s hand, hopping back next to Troy.

“Lovely day isn’t it?” Odie said, ignoring the surprised looks of everyone, “Rakks out, screeching and all!”

Pip coughed, clearing his throat, “It is… So, Mr. Cetus, what will be the battle plan for this… siege?” Cetus let out a small Maliwan surveyor out from his wrist watch, the bot displaying holograms of several buildings, weapons, and a photo of Rhys, the CEO of Atlas.

“Mr. Katagawa plans a ‘forceful’ merge with Atlas, seeks to attack directly Meridian. Our forces are currently leading small skirmishes in other Atlas bases, directing attention away so your… cult.. can overrun the city,” Cetus said, pinpointing the cityscape, “Maliwan has managed to cut off several supply shipments into the main city.”

“Hm… interesting, making them desperate and weak, nice,” Troy said, eyeing the holograms, “Ripe for pickings, eh?”

“Yes,” Cetus said, “As for the other information… Mr. Katagawa states there is intel about an item you seek, uh, a Vault Key?” The Calypsos perked up on this, grinning. The generals gasped at the news. Vault of Power and now a Vault Key close to them?

Lady Luck has blessed them.

“Oh, pray tell,” Tyreen said, approaching Cetus, “My forces will take care of the population of Meridian, but as for this Vault Key… We agreed with Katagawa it’d be our payment from his part.”

The Maliwan surveyor flew towards Winona who brought up a feed, displaying the Eridian artifacts, the last item resembling a Vault Key. 

“Yes, that is correct. We only seek a company merger, you may take the Vault Key. Our intel states that the CEO acquired this Vault Key years ago from an Atlas outpost in Pandora,” Cetus continued, Winona enlarging the image of the Vault Key and displaying a small landscape of the planet.

“Pandora, huh…” Pip said, scratching his head, “So that place is littered with Vault Keys or something?” 

“I’m not sure about, I’m from another department,” Cetus stated, sighing, “Just in charge of public image and all. But Atlas did have a stake in the planet not too long ago followed by Hyperion, so I assume it’s a possibility.” 

“So, Maliwan isn’t interested in the Vaults?” Odie asked, crossing his arms, serious. The Calypsos narrowed their eyes at him.

What was Odie planning?

Cetus was unfazed by his change of tone, “As stated, Mr. Katagawa is only interested in a company merge with Atlas. We won’t interfere with the Children of the Vault’s quest for those things.” Odie’s shoulders relaxed, nodding.

“Good, good, got to make sure is all,” Odie grinned, the Calypsos relieved. The general was still upset at the Twin Gods from earlier. 

“Well then, so, when are we set to attack- Excuse me, spread the gospel of our lovely cult?” Troy asked, eyeing the Maliwan bot. The bot chirped, resting on Winona’s arms, deactivated the holograms. 

“Mr. Katagawa is being generous and giving you the option to pick it, especially with the new shipment that arrived,” Cetus informed, “Do you have an estimate on the time frame?”

The CoV had to worry about the Vault of Power, if Maliwan was giving them the option to delay the siege, the better.

“Hmmm…. Well, we just had a raid, I’d say at least three months tops,” Troy said, looking up in thought, “Yeah, three months.” Enough to pay a visit to the new Vault. 

“Understood, I shall relay that message to Mr. Katagawa,” Cetus said, giving them a curt nod, “He will be pleased.” Winona let go of the bot, the surveyor bringing up a keyboard for her to type. She wrote the message, sending it off, “Done.”

“In the attaché, there will be several detailed blueprints and maps of Meridian,” Cetus said, “Should be enough information for your siege preparations.”

“Yep, as much as our cultists like to destroy things, its nice to see we got something solid to work with,” Troy mused, chuckling. 

“Then I believe this should be it, then,” Cetus said, “I shall take my leave then.”

“Hey, hey, leaving so soon?” Tyreen said, grinning, “We had something set up for Katagawa and he somewhat ditched us! We might as well go on with it since you are HIS representative!” 

Odie’s eyes widen.

Oh crap, he thought.

“Something… set up…?” Cetus asked, curious. He turned to face Winona, “We have time...?” Winona looked at a schedule, nodding, “We do sir.”

Oh crap, oh crap, Odie thought.

“I’m sure Katagawa has told you what we do in those Livestreams, right?” Tyreen smirked, getting close to Cetus, her Siren tattoos glowing bright, “Not your typical gameplay…”

Cetus appeared amused, “He only mentioned extensive amount of body horror and a lot of blood… Truth in his words?” Tyreen giggled, turning around, adjusting her jacket.

“That’s only the tip of the iceberg!” Tyreen said, laughing, lifting a finger up in the air. Troy smirked, gesturing for Moksha to turn on the console display. Moksha brought up a large hologram display, feed from the raids playing and some of the Let’s Flays as well.

“Wow…” Cetus observed, blinking. Winona glanced at him and then at the display.

There was a brief clip of your fight in the arena. Odie stared at Cetus for a reaction.

Nothing.

“Yep…and we have a special event to show as a sign of good faith with our corporate sponsor!” Tyreen chirped, snapping her fingers.

Moksha changed the feed, displaying the inside of a cell. Someone was tied to a metal chair, thrashing as priests dunk hot oil on the person.

The Rat King.

“Oh dear… who is that…?” Cetus asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Odie was on edge. Winona bit her lip, noticing the extensive injuries the bandit lord sported.

“Out here, its survival of the fittest, I’m sure you are familiar with that as a corporation, eh?” Troy stated, cackling, “Tonight’s Let’s Flay will have him as a special player!”

“Arena has been retro-fitted, new specs added, we even added a firewall!” Basil chipped in, grinning, “All for this moment!” 

“Wow… I suppose I should be flattered to see this up and personal…” Cetus said, nodding. The Calypsos grinned, chuckling. 

“We are still adding the final touches, but you and your crew will be set up in a separate room for the mean time,” Troy said, looking at Odie, “Escort them to the Harvest grounds, give them the left wing of the area. We will have our priests pick you up before the event starts.”

“Ah, how kind, thank you,” Cetus said, giving them a curt nod, “For the hospitality.” Odie smiled.

“Sure thing, boss. Right this way, and don’t worry, there won’t be any cultists guns blazing around the area,” Odie said, directed the Maliwan soldiers, Cetus and Winona away. Once the group left, the generals let out a sigh of relief.

“That guy… he’s too nice…” Pip mentioned, pulling at the collar of his shirt, “Freaking Odie spewing out shit.” 

“I think its just Odie being himself, he doesn’t like corporate people after what happened to his father,” Moksha said, “Dahl and all.” 

“He’s a new guy, that Cetus. Odie will be able to take care of him for the mean time,” Troy said, facing Basil and Mouthpiece, “Get the rest of the arena set up, I will not tolerate any setbacks!”

“Yes, Father Troy!” Mouthpiece and Basil said, bowing. 

“I will commence work at the warehouse for the siege,” Moksha said, bowing.

“I will smoke a blunt for the scare, then I’ll get to the serum and start working with the capsule feeders,” Pip snickered, Troy rubbing his face. 

“Dismissed!” Troy barked out, the generals bowing once again, leaving the throne room. The twins were left alone, finally breathing.

“…Do you think she’ll like it..?” Tyreen asked, looking at the console displaying the live feed of the arena. Several bandits were working on the pits, other on the seating area.

“Well, we are going to deal with the Rat King personally, I think she will,” Troy said, “but..”

“I know…” Tyreen whispered, sighing.

/I suggest you two drop this bullshit you got going on with her and move on./

It never crossed their mind.

/Or let her go. Let her leave./

That’s what they feared. 

Odie being beaten up by you was already a red flag that you were already on edge. The general vaguely suggested you’d be in a good mood to talk after recovering and asked for the twins not to summon you at all for the rest of the day.

That was the issue.

They needed to speak to you in regards to the arena fight. They didn’t want you to fight this time around and they’d be more adamant about it. 

This Let’s Flay… they’d be the ones fighting the Rat King. 

\-----0000000-------

“I give it a few minutes before she gets killed,” Troy said, grinning at Tyreen. His sister scoffed, leaning forward to keep an eye in the arena. Her plaything looked horrified upon realizing the arrangements made, standing inside the arena with the other playthings. Tyreen enjoyed the expression, gleeful.

“I know she won’t disappoint me,” Tyreen said, sticking her tongue out at Troy, “She gave you a beating, this will be easy pickings for her.”

“I was caught off guard,” Troy hissed, hearing the airhorns go off, signaling the start of the fight, “It won’t happen again.” Tyreen laughed, shaking her head.

The Calypsos saw Tyreen’s plaything maneuver around the arena, canvassing the area and disposing of several playthings. This caught the interest of the twins, seeing the woman easily overpower the other fighters, taking the weapons and actually using strategies instead of guns blazing as was common in the fights. 

“THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING GOES AFTER THE GOLIATH!” Mouthpiece shouted, at edge with the fight, “WILL SHE BE TRIUMPHANT?!”

The crowd of cultists were going wild, seeing Tyreen’s plaything bring down the platform where Mouthpiece was at, crashing into the arena. Tyreen and Troy stood up, baffled and shock. All went quiet until the surveyors spotted activity by the debris, revealing Tyreen’s plaything, alive. 

Tyreen’s eyes widen, zeroing in on the woman. The plaything was completely covered in soot, holding a Jakobs gun, shooting down the Goliath that had emerged from the debris. The God Queen watched as her plaything went on to defeat the Badass Psycho with ease, becoming the victor. The Calypsos were surprised. 

Tyreen’s plaything surviving a fight?

But it wasn’t the only surprise of the night. 

“THIS IS YOUR FUCKING FUTURE!!!!!” the woman shouted, Troy and Tyreen stepping back when the head of the Badass Psycho landed near them on the platform. The plaything stormed off, Mouthpiece announcing her victory. The crowd went wild, chanting.

“PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING! PLAYTHING!”

“Wow…” Troy muttered, still staring at the decapitated head, “Holy shit….”

Tyreen was without words, her mind barely registering the last few minutes. Her plaything was methodical, bloodthirsty, and feral in the arena. 

And was not shy about brazen displays.

Tyreen wanted to see more.

\----------0000000---------

“You know… You need to stop pinching your skin, you already got enough scars as it is,” Perseus teased, dodging a playful punch from your part. You huffed, Jackal slapping lightly your hands.

“I can’t help it… its either that or I bite my hand,” you said, frowning.

“Well… I was waiting for this later on, but I guess I should bring it out,” Perseus searched in his leather bag, taking out a small thin box. He opened it, revealing a small ring with miniature gears on the surface. 

“Here,” Perseus held it out, lifting your right hand up, “Instead of pinching your skin, use this ring.” Your eyes widen, then a mischievous smirk replaced your smile.

“Wow, Perseus, already a year and asking for my hand in marriage?” you giggled, seeing Perseus’s cheeks get red.

“N-No! I mean… I guess? Engaged in combat…” Perseus mused, laughing. Jackal smacked the mechanic’s back, laughing as well.

“I’m a priest, I declare you wife and psycho!” Jackal held his hands over yours and Perseus, mock blessing them. You three busted out in laughter again.

“Wait, so who’s the wife?” you asked, blinking, “Oh, Perseus, you’re my wife, I’m the psycho.”

“W-What!” Perseus spewed out, face getting red. You grinned, chuckling, “Aw, wifey, red as the blood I spill in the arena.”

“How romantic,” Jackal added, cackling, “Where are you two going for the honeymoon then?”

“Hm, the bar sounds good right now, we got to have a toast for our nuptials!” you teased, pinching Perseus’s cheek, “We can have an actual psycho be my best man!” Perseus smacked your hand away, grinning.

“S-Stop!” Perseus protested, still laughing. 

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Jackal raised his arms up, “But seriously, you need to be resting, just stay here for the remainder of the day. The Calypsos already got what they wanted.” You sighed, nodding as you went to sit on the couch, laying on it. Perseus glanced at you and then at Jackal.

“How about some food?” Perseus offered, “I’m still finishing up some projects, I’ll probably be staying here for a bit as well.”

“Sure, don’t let her out, though,” Jackal said, hearing you snort as you waved at him.

“Don’t worry! I don’t feel like punching any other priests,” you joked, now playing with the ring. Jackal shook his head, chuckling before exiting the study room. Once he was gone, you looked at Perseus.

“Hey… thanks for the ring…” you said, fidgeting with it, “I know it will come in handy.”

The mechanic was working on Helen’s mask, addressing you, “As long as no one mistakes it for a promise ring, I’m good, heh.” You knew who he was referring to.

Tyreen.

“One thing at a time, Perseus… one thing at a time,” you whispered, “Wake me up when Jackal gets back, please….”

“Sure thing,” Perseus said, now glancing back at you. Your breathing evened out, still playing with the gear ring.

\--------0000000000-------

Subsequent fights and string of victories catapulted Tyreen’s plaything into the spotlight, cultists and online followers eager to see the continuation of the Let’s Flay series. And so did Tyreen’s attention to the bandit.

You.

Much to your intense disgust, Tyreen orbited around you, pushing your buttons, wanting to see what you were capable of under pressure. Majority of the time, she’d drop in at your hut, warehouse, and sometimes at the church. Irritated, you did your best to avoid her, to no vail.

Tyreen savored the challenge, egging you on. 

She had gotten bolder on her approach towards you, touching and pining you down, showing you who was the one in charge. Eventually, she resorted to using her powers to keep you in line. All in all, Tyreen sought you out despite your constant rejections.

Her visits to the hut were the worse, in your opinion, getting too handsy and grabby for your taste, resorting to slaps and hair pulling to get you to move or act a certain way. 

Majority of the time she’d spend it hugging you in her own awkward way.

Tyreen wrapped her arms around your waist, bringing you close, nuzzling your cheek. You remained frozen in your spot, hands down your sides. This didn’t please the God Queen.

“Place your arms around my neck, and no, I don’t mean for you to choke me,” Tyreen said, amused. Your eye twitched but you did as told, not wanting to deal with another hair pull or slap by the Siren Calypso. Tyreen shuddered, feeling your arms resting on her shoulders. She placed soft kisses on your neck, feeling your pulse quicken. She smirked, grazing her teeth across the soft skin. You flinched, your body jerking but she kept you in place. 

“I’m not biting this time, doll…” Tyreen said, kissing again your neck. You didn’t believe her. 

Your scent was driving her crazy. It was hopeless to fight, so you went along with her whims. Tyreen swayed you back and forth, as if dancing. You were irritated. She didn’t care. Tyreen was in bliss at your expense. This became a common routine at your hut. If she wasn’t able to manhandle you after the fights at the medical room, she’d beeline her way to your place. 

Tyreen’s burning desire for you increased with every display of at the fights, seeing you on edge, bloodthirsty – feral. In the heat of the moment, and against your judgement, you’d indulge her when she’d kiss or touch you. You were itching to continue fighting, Tyreen using that against you when pining you down.

Her fingers would dance on your sides, feeling your body shaking at the sensation. Scarred skin, rugged, marks of fights, all of those telling the history of survival under Tyreen’s fingertips. Some of the scars were deep, others small, thin – faint – large and small, skin soft – rough in patches. Your breathing would hitch when Tyreen gently kissed your hand, her own lips feeling the texture of your skin. It trailed down your arm, to your shoulder, neck, and then your own lips, the God Queen fully kissing you, hungry. 

Desperate.

It was a dangerous game for the God Queen to play. No winners, only losers. Tyreen losing herself completely in you. 

\--------000000000--------

Odie led the Maliwan envoy to the Harvest grounds, babbling on about the rituals conducted in the area and praises for the Calypsos. Cetus tuned in, curious as he gazed around the compound. Winona was wary of the surroundings, eyeing the warehouse in the distance.

The place where Donovan was killed.

“This area is off-limits to cultists, so you and the others won’t have to worry about nosy bandits, just priests,” Odie mentioned, gesturing at the rooms, “Each room has an intercom you can use to summon a priest should you need anything. I’ll be around this area keeping watch.”

Of Cetus.

“Thank you,” Cetus bowed, entering a room followed by Winona. The Maliwan soldiers each took a side of the door, guarding it while two others entered the room. Odie stuck his tongue out at them, leaving the left wing.

Once he felt he was out of ear shot, he grabbed the end of his jacket, screaming into it.

“Holy shit… I can’t believe that fucker is here…” Odie said, eyes wide, “Fucking Master is here…”

The Calypsos can’t know.

But with the arena fight coming up, it would be inevitably for you to find out.

\--------000000000--------

You were trying really hard to ignore her presence as you kept working on a service part late at night at the warehouse. Part of you really hoped that by staying late at work, she wouldn’t show up at the hut as it became a routine for the God Queen. 

You were wrong.

Tyreen, dressed casually, sat by your work bench, arms propped on the surface, observing you intently. She had no interest in mechanic work, but knew a bit from what she could remember as a child due to Troy’s arm. No one else was in the warehouse except you and her, just the way Tyreen wanted. You’d glance at her, seeing Tyreen’s eyebrows go up, a tiny smile at the corner of the God Queen’s lips. 

You immediately looked away, pissed off. Tyreen’s smile would turn to a smirk. 

Soon, you forgot she was there, engrossed in your work. Tyreen, by her part, kept observing, picking up on your intense focus and how careful you were in moving parts, testing out the contraptions, adjusting and – 

Humming. 

You were humming a little tune while working. 

Tyreen blinked, first time hearing this. It was a soft hum, the rhythm in sync with your hand movements on the service part. 

Tyreen stared at you in wonder and awe.

Her heart jumped.

\-----00000000--------

Tyreen and Troy arrived at the prison complex that contained the holding cell of the Rat King, his screams of pain reaching them at the entrance. The God Queen smirked, walking forward followed by Troy.

“Beautiful sounds I hear,” Tyreen said, chuckling when a gargled scream was heard. Troy remained quiet, grinding his teeth. His sister glanced back at him. 

“I figured you’d make some joke or something,” Tyreen paused, turning to face him. He almost bumped into her.

“Ah shit- Fuck, why’d you stop?” Troy said, annoyed. Tyreen raised an eyebrow at him.

“You need to focus, we’re about to talk to this rat turd of a bandit,” Tyreen reminded him, shaking her head, “I know you want to deck him, but save it for the arena.” She resumed her walk, Troy immediately following. 

“I can’t stand that fucker, every time he opens his damn mouth its about her…” Troy took a deep breath, him and Tyreen reaching the Rat King’s cell. Two Badass Psychos guarded the doors with Bruisers, armed to the teeth, mingled about on the sides, bowing at the Calypsos. 

“Open the doors – I am as well, usually you are the one to tell me to calm down…” Tyreen said, placing her hands behind her back as the large metallic doors opened to reveal the bandit lord. Several priests were still pouring hot oil on the Rat King, his screams more powerful. Troy snapped his fingers, the priests scurrying to the side, bowing.

“Well, well, I hope someone is hungry for cooked rat, ha!” Tyreen laughed, smirking, “We strive for the greatest hospitality out here in the wastes.”

The Rat King was wheezing, struggling to lift his head up to look at the Calypsos, “You Siren bitch… Greatest hospitality you say…? I reckon that broad would say otherwise…”

Back at it again with you.

Troy inhaled deeply, keeping his temper in check, “You sure are chatty today, ready to spill about your buddy – oh, excuse me, ex-buddy, Trinity?”

“I already told you… bring her here and I will talk….” The Rat King chuckled, licking his lips, “I want to see her….”

Tyreen’s eye twitched, “Huh, bold still in making demands? Not a fat chance, rat turd.” She eyed Troy who was furious. The tall Calypso approached a priest, snatching a pitcher with hot oil from their hands, stormed forward and tossed it at the Rat King’s face. The bandit lord screeched, the sizzling of flesh audible, the priests recoiling from it. Troy grabbed what was left of the bandit’s hair, pulling his head back.

“Listen here you piece of shit, your stupid little friend isn’t going to come and save you. They left you high and dry… so you best cooperate!” Troy punched the Rat King with his mechanical arm, the capsule effect still present in it. The bandit lord screamed but it devolved into laughter. Tyreen narrowed her eyes.

“They will come for me! She’s here as well you fucking idio- GAH!” Troy punched the man, snarling. 

“I’m going to thoroughly enjoy ripping your limbs….” Troy hissed out, a devilish smirk on his lips, “The God Queen won’t heal you when that happens…” Tyreen revealed her hands, flicking her wrist as the Rat King’s wound healed.

“Keep pouring oil on him, make it extra hot,” Tyreen said, voice laced with disgust. The priests bowed and mumbled a ‘yes, my God Queen,’ resuming their duties. Troy punched the bandit again before standing by Tyreen. 

“Fucking prick…” Troy muttered, angry.

“He’s not going to tell us anything, at least he will do well for the Let’s Flay,” Tyreen said, walking away. Troy gestured to the Badass Psychos, the men closing the holding cell doors. 

“We have to go check on the arena, make sure everything is in order,” Troy took out his EchoNet device, pinging a message to Basil, “And with that corporate man, I expect the cultists to behave.”

“They know about Maliwan being our corporate sponsor, but yes, they are dense,” Tyreen rolled her eyes, remembering how difficult it was to get information across several psychos, “Bigwig gets hurt and its goodbye to our elemental toys.”

Troy laughed, “Yeah, and well, looks like things are running smoothly according to Basil, either way, let’s swing by. I’ll have Odie meet us there.” He pinged out another message, getting a confirmation.

.:INCOMING MESSAGE:.

.:Troy’s Bitch: Sure thing boss! ;3

.:T. Calypso: Are you fucking kidding me.

At least the general’s sense of humor offered little comfort to Troy’s nerves, despite Odie having a meltdown on the other side of the screen with Jackal about the reveal of Cetus inside the CoV hub.

\-----000000000------

“Good luck in your fight, not that you need it of course,” Tyreen teased, giving you a quick peck on your lips. You scowled, irritated as you looked away. The God Queen would sometimes show up in your waiting room in the arena, giving you a ‘good luck’ kiss. It didn’t help that Jackal was around to see Tyreen’s displays of affections. He made no comment about it. You attributed that as an oath of silence by the Calypsos’ priests. 

“I’ll see you after the fight, doll,” Tyreen purred out, caressing your cheek. She let her hand linger long on you, a smile small on her lips. You didn’t respond, but your eye twitched. Tyreen chuckled, departing from the room. As Tyreen made her way to the viewing platform, Troy greeted her with a pout.

“How come you get to pester her before the fight?” Troy complained, huffing.

“She’s my plaything, not yours!” Tyreen said, sitting in her throne, “Besides, she doesn’t like you.” Tyreen was aware of Troy’s shenanigans with you, mostly on his part to get you to screw him. Literally.

“Yeah, well, I doubt she even likes YOU,” Troy spat out in a joking manner. Tyreen shot him a look, then rolled her eyes.

The statement did sting for the truth behind the words. 

She wasn’t going to show it.

\----0000000-----

Cetus crossed his legs, leaning back on his seat. He was surprised that the Calypsos had decent furniture, something he attributed to their ‘LiveScream’ EchoNet success. The place was overrun by bandits of all types, ready to die for the sake of their ‘Gods,’ a thought he found both ridiculous but respectable. From his years at Maliwan and watching the Corporate Wars, no one had ever amassed such influence over the lowliest of low in the food chain.

“And yet, they are a nuisance,” Cetus commented, getting Winona’s attention, “Those Calypsos fill the airwaves with absolute trash about being deities and promising the universe to these bandits.”

Winona adjusted her glasses, glancing up from her screen, “Sir?”

“Don’t mind my ramblings, Winona,” Cetus said, chuckling, “Simple observations. I’m surprised I didn’t see her in the throne room.”

You.

“I must admit, I was expecting her presence based on the intel provided by our insider,” Winona said, “Her Majesty has been helping the Calypsos out with the serum.” She brought up a file on her screen, reading the contents.

.:Log 1.12.114 XxXX-XXXXX-XXXX:.  
.:‘Her Majesty has been working on several body mods to facilitate the use of the serum on the CoV cultists. The Calypsos have dubbed those with the body mod that uses low-dosage of the serum as Fanatics. Unlike the Jesters, these Fanatics retain their intelligence and do not require use of a Mind Link to control their actions.’:.

“Hm, she’s been busy, I guess she’s out of retirement,” Cetus chuckled, smiling fondly, “Wasted potential on these cultists.”

“Sir?” Winona looked at him, a bit nervous. 

“You may speak your thoughts Winona,” Cetus said, “You are my eyes and ears, I value your input.” Winona glanced away, then back at him.

“What is the procedure should… if we meet her? Andromeda?” Winona asked, using your name instead of title. A serious matter for the woman. 

“Although we departed in bad terms, I highly doubt she’ll act out, she’s not that reckless,” Cetus said, touching his silver ring, the engagement ring that still occupied a space on his hand. 

Yours was long gone. 

Winona looked unconvinced, but nodded, “Of course, sir.” She was there during your meltdown when you kicked her out of the operation room to save Blue, returning to find you gone. Word reached her about your bloody rampage. Deep hatred. 

All directed to Cetus, the man you had dearly loved.

“Ease your mind, Winona.”

The woman nodded again, “Yes, sir.” 

She wondered if you hated her as well.

\-----000000000------

“What about this outfit?” Tyreen asked, showing you the garments. You grunted, struggling against the restraints she placed on you. Your legs were tied to the chair, your arms on your back.

“What. About. This. Outfit?” Tyreen asked again, narrowing her eyes.

“Tch. Its hideous,” you spat out, irritated. You were glaring at the Siren Calypso. Tyreen blinked, then looked at the mirror with the garments. Staring a while, she agreed with your statement.

“Yeah… doesn’t seem to work on me, too gaudy…” Tyreen mused, throwing the garments on a pile before reentering her wardrobe room. She exited with another outfit, twirling around.

“This?” Tyreen asked. You huffed, staring at her for a while, then giving her a look around. 

“Jacket is wrong color, go with a black one with purple trim,” you said, sniffing. Tyreen glanced once again at the mirror, blinking, then going back to the wardrobe and retrieving a jacket with purple trimming, putting on and examining herself on the mirror. 

She then removed the jacket and placed back the previous one, tilting her head. 

Your suggestion was on point. Tyreen tossed the old jacket in the garment pile. She showed off more outfits, asking for your input. Despite your sarcastic tone, you managed to give her good advice on several pieces and combinations. Tyreen felt at ease, taking your suggestions seriously, satisfied with the end result. 

“Oh, looks like we went through a lot! Got several outfits ready for raids and livestreams, thanks, doll,” Tyreen chirped, grabbing several garment piles and tossing them in baskets. 

“Ugh, can I go now?” you asked, struggling against the restraints, “I sat through this as you asked…” Tyreen smirked, walking over towards you, hands on hips. 

“Well, I suppose so, you’ve been a delight today,” Tyreen said, grabbing your chin, “Or I can keep you here for a while…” She let her hand slip to your neck, tracing the CoV mark on your collarbone, pulling down on your shirt.

“A long… while…” Tyreen purred out, grinning. You growled, struggling more. 

The God Queen chuckled, “Heh, alright, just this once I’ll be nice.” She leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss. You tried to pull away, Tyreen keeping your head in place with a hand. The other hand ventured to your back, sending shivers down your spine. She kept you in position for a while, loosening the rope keeping your hands tied together. Before you tried to push her off, she parted away, laughing. You hissed at her, your lip bruised where she bit you.

Tyreen licked her lips, smirking, “You just can’t keep your hands off me, eh, doll?” 

“Why you-!” you growled out, tensing up when the chair wobbled forward. Tyreen quickly grabbed you, leveling the chair back. 

“Tsk, tsk, your legs are still tied, ehehe,” Tyreen backed off again when you tried reaching her, but your attention deviated to removing the rope keeping your feet anchored. She watched as you undid the knots, rubbing your wrists and cursing under your breath over the rope burn. Tyreen approached you again, grabbing your hands. You tried pulling away, angry.

“Let me have a look,” Tyreen said, gripping tight your arms. 

“Don’t touch me…!” you spat out, hissing in pain when she applied pressure. Relenting, you let her examine your wrists. Tyreen could see extreme gashes, courtesy of your ongoing struggling while in the binds. She rubbed two fingers into the wound, hearing your hiss more in pain. Smirking, she began healing the rope burns. You yanked your hands from her. 

“Naughty girl,” Tyreen teased. 

You looked down at your wrists, eyes narrowing upon seeing skin clear of wounds. Huffing, you stood up quickly, using the chair as a barrier against Tyreen. She raised an eyebrow at this, chuckling. 

“Let. Me. Out!” you shouted. 

“No need to yell, doll,” the God Queen said, standing up and heading towards the door, laughing when you moved out of the way. She unlocked the door, glancing back at you.

“It’s open.”

You glared at her, taking a deep breath. Your gut feeling was screaming that it was a trap. 

You took a chance. 

Bolting towards the door, Tyreen grabbed you by the neck, pinning you against the wall. Gagging, you felt the warmth of her Siren hand against your skin, prickles of pain emerging. Tyreen shook her head.

“Doll, you know I can’t let you out. You’ll get lost inside the compound, if you behave right now, I’ll escort you out, is that clear?” Tyreen smirked as you growled, but nodded. She let go, seeing you touch your neck. She leaned forward, recapturing your lips again. You jolted, her hand on your chin. It wasn’t a rough kiss, but a ‘soft’ one, Tyreen parting away. 

“Come now, doll. I know you’re eager to leave,” Tyreen whispered, giving you another kiss, walking out of the War Room. You were frozen in spot, a small blush on your cheeks as you stared at the exit. Anger. Red was all you saw. 

\--------000000000----------

Perseus nibbled on the food Jackal brought over, pushing a plate with slices of meat towards you, “Eat. Also, no more naps, you’ll ruin your sleeping schedule.” You stuck your tongue out, grabbing the plate and picking at it. 

“Yes, dad, gosh,” you joked, munching on a piece of meat, “Damn, this is good.” Perseus nodded in agreement, “We got the hookup!” 

“We are indeed lucky this time around, my fellow friend,” you added, laughing alongside Perseus. Feeling comfortable, you enjoyed the man’s company, a breath of relief in this insane cult. Jackal, recently, has been a great help as well, watching out for you. 

“Thanks, Perseus…” you whispered, smiling sadly. Perseus blinked, confused.

“For the ring? It’s all cool- Andromeda?” Perseus, who was seating opposite side of you on the table, leaned forward, “Hey, what’s up?”

“I just…” you sighed, rubbing your eye, the temptation to cry strong, “I never thought I’d have friends here. I mean, I’m a raid spoil for the Calypsos… I wasn’t expecting to live this long, granted almost dying at Tyreen’s hands…” 

Perseus smiled, “Hey, I honestly thought you’d kill me when I introduced myself to you that night.” You chuckled, remembering that night. After the arena fight and dealing with Tyreen, you were in no mood to deal with anyone, yet Perseus managed to wiggle himself into your life.

With a small act of kindness that struck you deep.

Asking your name. 

“Majority of my life, rarely has anyone asked me for my name… It may seem silly, but one gets tired of titles…” you said, poking at a meat slice, “Back in Trinity, it was always ‘Queen,’ ‘Her Majesty,’ and other bullshit… When I think about it, it was always Cetus, Winona, Blue, and Circe I’d be surrounded with… Everyone else only used me for their pleasure.”

Their sick fantasies. 

“And now dealing with the Calypsos,” Perseus added, munching on his food, “You have my brother as well, I mean, not as a friend, but at least someone to knock some sense in to the Twin Gods.”

You sniffed, grinning, “Your brother knows I’m dangerous, based on what you guys told me about beating the shit out of him.” 

“He had it coming though,” Perseus said, pointing his fork at you, “I kept telling him to stop taunting you but he kept going. I’m sure he’s glad he can say he survived your onslaught and mostly likely will use it to bother Father Troy about it.”

Ah, another survivor of your punches.

You snorted, also remembering that fight vividly, “Even to this day, I miss the bots. Those were my ‘friends’ so to speak when I was a scavenger and joining the Skullmashers… I still have a half-finished bot in my workbench, never got to finishing it up.” 

“How come?” Perseus asked, finished with his meal, “Oh, right, the Calypsos.” 

“Yeah, its bad enough right now about the whole capsule feeders, at least that’s easy for Pip to work on instead of me being dragged around, ugh,” you sighed, pushing your plate away.

“BROTHERS AND SISTERS! ARE YOU READY FOR TONIGHT’S FIGHT IN THE NAME OF THE TWIN GODS?!”

You turned to look outside the balcony area of the study room, raising an eyebrow at Mouthpiece’s announcement. Was the attack on the Rat King’s lair a raid? 

“LET US CELEBRATE THE GLORIOUS VICTORY OF THE GOD QUEEN OVER THE HERETIC RAT KING OF THE MARSHLANDS!” Your blood ran cold.

“Huh… so they are actually having a fight…?” Perseus asked out loud, surprised, “I mean I’m almost done with the –“

“THIS FIGHT IS SPONSORED BY MALIWAN! THE GLORIOUS GOD QUEEN HAS ANSWERED THEIR PRAYERS FOR SALVATION!”

You almost fell out of your seat trying to stand up, afraid. 

“M-Maliwan…?!” you gasped, fidgeting with the ring, anxiety hitting you, “Oh shit… please don’t tell me… Perseus!”

“I-I don’t know what they mean by that, I mean, we do get parts from Maliwan…” Perseus said, nervous at your agitated state. You began pacing back and forth, taking deep breaths and playing with the ring.

“Okay, its just a sponsorship, nothing to worry about…” you ranted on.

“You think corporate people are here..? Among bandits?” Perseus asked.

You nodded, “I-I mean, I can handle Katagawa, I just hope.. maybe I’m overthinking this.. its just an announcement, don’t think too hard on it…”

“I can ask my brother…? He should know…” Perseus jumped when you stared at him, eyes wide, “Or not?”

“I don’t want Odie to fucking spill something in front of the Calypsos! If HE is here, gods forbid, its bad news not just for me but for everyone here…” you said, afraid, “I don’t trust Tyreen and Troy’s behavior should they find out Master is here…”

Cetus. The one responsible for your problems with the Calypsos. 

“Let me talk to my brother, alright? Just to make sure and we can plan something,” Perseus stood up, approaching you, “Remember, you have me, Jackal, and Odie.”

You looked at Perseus, nervous.

“You are not alone.”

That was not the reason for your fright.

You were scared of losing them all.

Cetus had taken everything from you before, he’d do it again.

\--------0000000000-------

It was your first time in Tyreen’s room, the previous one from the Harvest grounds was a ‘temporary’ one for when the Calypsos went off to a raid. Compared to the décor in there to her actual room, the environment did scream of Tyreen Calypso. Various trinkets, majority of crystals and what appeared to be fossilized flowers, adorned the shelves along the wall over a small workbench with various curios. Strings of lights were nailed to the wall above her massive bed, the only source of light at the moment, giving the room a dim, warm glow. Purple bed sheets and silk pillows looked expensive, clearly not from the wastes. 

You stood by the corner of her bed, waiting on her. Tyreen stepped out of her bathroom, a thin pink robe covering her body. You were wearing a similar one, a white one, the God Queen taking you away from the post-fight back to her place much to Troy’s displeasure and in extension yours.

“Come here,” she beckoned, gesturing with her hand. You sighed, complying. The carpet around the bed was soft on your bare feet as you stood in front of Tyreen. She glanced up and down at you, her gaze lingering at your chest. Reaching out, she traced the CoV mark on your collarbone, causing you freeze up. To your surprise, she made no angry comment, merely pressing her palm on the surface of the scar, her hand warm against your skin.

Her fingers treaded under the robe, pushing it off your shoulder, exposing half of your chest. Your breathing hitched, wondering what she was planning. Tyreen rubbed her thumb on your shoulder, down your arm, and moved her hand to under your breast area, fingertips teasing your skin.

“You’re beautiful.”

You blinked, looking at her. Her gaze was soft, dreamy as if admiring your form. She lifted your hand up, kissing the knuckles, nuzzling it against her cheek.

“You’re beautiful, everything of you is beautiful…” Tyreen whispered, observing your scars on your hand. Words were stuck in your throat. You’d pull away at these moments, but part of you knew better than to ruin the moment for Tyreen lest she punished you. Gulping, you stood your place, Tyreen looking at you. 

You averted your gaze, nervous. 

You had seen what she was capable of, her Siren powers. The brief uses against you were painful, your body remembering them vividly. If you followed along, you’d hope she didn’t use them right now.

Tyreen pushed you on her bed, pulling down the rest of your robe, your nude form displayed before her. Her hands wandered over your skin, pressing at the sensitive parts, lingering bruises and scars. You remained still, letting her have her way. 

She pulled away, breathless, removing her own robe, allowing it to fall on the floor. She was nude, her Siren tattoos glowing bright against the warm glow of the string lights. Tyreen grabbed your hands, placing them on her breasts.

You massaged them, not needing for her to order you. She let out a moan, a content sigh. Your hands slid down her sides, feeling her skin. Soft unlike yours. Her body was more petite than yours. You admitted she was attractive but her behavior was something else entirely.

“Oh, doll…” Tyreen whispered, straddling your hips, crushing her lips against yours. In an instant, Tyreen was all over you, grinding against you, panting and moaning, excited. You squirmed under her, trying to adjust yourself under her weight and being sandwiched with the bed, yelped when she inserted two fingers inside you. 

“Ah..” you gasped out, Tyreen silencing you with a kiss. Her eager thrusts send your mind into a frenzy, spreading your legs more for more contact. The God Queen kept kissing you, moaning through it, massaging your breast with her other hand. 

“Oh..! Ah…” you couldn’t contain yourself, arching your back, desperate, your belly on fire. Tyreen inserted another digit, rubbing her thumb against your clit, getting aroused by watching you writhe under her touch. 

“That’s it, doll,” Tyreen whispered, breaking from the kiss, “Let your body enjoy it…” 

“Mm… I…” Words were out of the window, pleasure only occupying your mind. It had been ages since you had intercourse with someone. The last person, Cetus, long forgotten at the moment. 

“Ahh…Guhh….” You whimpered, hot, gasping. Tyreen placed soft kisses between your breasts, laying her head on your stomach, her finger thrusting quickening. 

“I love hearing your little whimpers, doll,” Tyreen said, giggling, “Such a naughty girl… You’re really wet…” Goosebumps traveled throughout your body, the God Queen’s hair tickling your skin. Her fingers curled inside you, hitting the bundle of nerves, eliciting a loud moan from you, your legs going numb. 

You could feel the buildup, your body jerking against Tyreen’s fingers. 

So close.

So close, almost. 

You gasped, looking down at Tyreen who was smirking back at you. She had removed her fingers, coyly licking them while staring at you. 

“Heh, not yet, doll,” Tyreen taunted, massaging your thighs, “You can’t have all the fun.” You tried to sit up, only to be pushed down by her, hissing when she dug her nails into your hip. 

“Behave…” the Siren Calypso growled out, “If you do, I’ll make it worth your while, alright?”

More like hers, you thought. Her hand ventured too close to your head, pulling out a box from under the pillow next to you, revealing the contents inside: a strap-on and lube. Your face got red, recalling the nights you’d spend with Circe, the woman eagerly using that on you, not that you minded. 

However, this was Tyreen. 

You said nothing as you watched the God Queen put it on, firmly securing it before pulling you towards her by your legs. The tip teased your already sensitive clit, your body anticipating it. Tyreen coated the strap with lube, licking her lips as pressed it inside you, slowly. Inhaling deeply, you gripped tight the bedsheets, Tyreen pulling out, torturing you, her nails lightly touching your legs. 

“Ready?” Tyreen teased before slamming hard. 

“AH!” you threw your head to the side, moaning as Tyreen sped up, gripping tight your hips. She grunted, hunched over you, grinning. Your hands desperately tried to seek something to hold on, finding it on Tyreen’s arms. The wet, sloppy sounds of skin-on-on skin, your moans, the headboard hitting against the wall, coupled with Tyreen’s grunts filled the room. 

The God Queen growled, snarling as she pressed her body against yours, thrusting harder and faster. Your whimpers and whines were getting her more aroused, riled up, her Siren tattoos flaring out of control, hot against your skin. She hid her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, nipping at your skin, hearing your pulse quicken more and more. You wrapped your legs around her waist, restricting a bit her movement. Tyreen didn’t admonish you, instead, indulged you by slamming hard and long. 

“Oh.. Ah…” Tyreen’s tongue traced your neckline, her lips meeting yours, dominating you. Soft whimpers still escaped you, the God Queen never stopping her thrusts. She grabbed a fistful of your hair, breaking away from the kiss, pulling your head to the side, giving a hard thrust, sinking her teeth on your neck. 

Intense heat.

You weren’t sure what came out of your mouth, the orgasm hitting you hard as Tyreen held your body down, the metallic scent of blood reaching your nostrils, sending you down a whirlwind of emotions. Tyreen eagerly lapped at your blood, rolling her hips against yours, keeping her body flushed over yours, hair stuck to her forehead. 

Your body recovered little by little, your senses coming back to normal. Squirming, you tried to push Tyreen off your neck, only to hear a snarl from her. Ceasing to struggle, you felt her tongue and lips on your skin, giving you sloppy kisses. 

“You taste so good, doll…” Tyreen moaned, helping herself to more of your blood, “I prefer it when you are afraid, but this tastes so much better…” Nauseous, you attempted again to stop her, irritated Tyreen as she sunk her teeth again. 

“F-Fuck… ” you hissed out, “I-I’m getting dizzy… please…” Tyreen huffed, lifting her head up, lower part of her face smeared with blood.

“You’re such a buzzkill,” Tyreen said, licking her lips, “Even after giving you such a good fuck, this is the thanks I get?” You growled at her, yelping when she pulled your hair. You were breathing heavily, Tyreen noticing your pale state. She groaned in frustration, bringing her hand over the bite marks, slowly healing them. Pulling at the bedsheets, she used it to clean up the blood from your neck and wiping your face clean, then hers. Despite her brutish feeding, she was careful, healing the small bruise on your bottom lip. 

She gazed over your red cheeks, gently poking it with a finger. You refrained from speaking, trying to get your breathing evened out, your heart beating fast. Tyreen cupped your face, gingerly kissing your cheeks, brushing her lips against yours, slowly rolling her hips again. You gulped, your body tensing up.

“You’re beautiful.”

You averted your gaze, Tyreen resting her head on your chest, her thrusts picking up speed again. It didn’t take long before you were holding on to her again, trying to keep yourself grounded, moaning loudly, even begging, gasping for air, your legs growing weak with every hard thrust and orgasm. Throughout the night, Tyreen laid claim on your body, leaving her mark on it every time. 

Never once did she let go of you, her body touching yours, feeling every twitch, your chest rising, your legs rubbing against her hips, her own arms anchoring you down. 

She pulled out from inside you, breathing hard, her own body shaking. You whimpered, your body aching for more, your mind screaming in protest.

Your mind was hazy, the bed shifting around you before sinking further next to you, feeling Tyreen’s arms around you, hugging you close. The afterglow was present, your breathing and heartbeat slowly easing. The God Queen kept petting the back of your head, massaging it with her fingertips, lulling you to relax. No words were exchanged, the heavy wave of sleep affecting you, your bodies melded together. You were slowly drifting away, your skin tingling when the bedsheets were pulled up to cover you. 

Soon, you were asleep, Tyreen holding you in her arms. She fought the urge to sleep for a bit longer, pondering on what had transpired. 

This was the first time she had been extremely intimate with a plaything. Tyreen rested her chin on your head, getting comfortable. She rubbed her thumbs on your back, hearing you hum a little before going quiet. 

Warmth. Comfort.

Tyreen stared ahead, that odd feeling rising up again in her. The same one from the first day she laid eyes on you out in the Skullmashers camp. The same one that would show up over and over again during each arena fight. 

And it would lurk up every time she sought you out, pining you down on the floor, up against the wall, hearing your moans, close to her ear, you clinging on to her, your hips bucking trying to match her rhythm, the hungry kisses the God Queen would give you, feeling your heartbeat against her skin, warm, more and more. 

Warmth. More contact. Warmth.

Comfort. 

Tyreen wanted more and more. 

Her appetite for you never satiated. 

**“You’re beautiful.”**

\---------00000000000-----------

Odie and Jackal walked down the hallways in the Cathedral, the priest speaking to him in a hushed tone. They were heading back to Jackal’s study where Perseus and you were resting. 

“Please, please tell me you are wrong for once…” Jackal pleaded, wiping the sweat from his brow, “Are you absolutely sure its him? The Maliwan guy?”

Odie rubbed his own face, frustrated, “It’s him. The way she described him to you and my brother fits this guy! Even before he said his name, he yells of extreme danger despite all smiles, Jackal!” The general had to control himself from lashing out.

“God fucking damnit, you’re gonna have to tell her. She needs to know!” Jackal said, adjusting his robes, “We need to get her calm. You think she’s going to sit idle while the Calypsos are beating up the Rat King in the arena with that man not too far away from her?”

“I wasn’t expecting that fucker to be here! I just got back from exile!” Odie protested, raising his arms up, “Nor was I aware we were going to get a corporate visit!” He wanted to punch Troy for leaving that out of the report.

“He knows how much you hate corporate people, maybe that’s why he left it out,” Jackal said, sighing, “Very noble of him, eh?”

“More frustrating it is, I can’t believe I have to be the bearer of bad news to Andromeda,” Odie said, taking a deep breath, “I really don’t want to do this, but you are right, she needs to know. Worse comes to worse, I’d have to subdue her until this fucker is gone.” They both reached the study room, pausing outside the doors.

“I doubt the Calypsos would like that…” Jackal added, crossing his arms, “You said they were pissed off that you even got in a fight with her.”

Odie shrugged, “Eh, I’m worth more alive for the moment.” The general opened the door, immediately coming face to face with you.

“You! Explain what is going on, now!” you said, extremely agitated. Perseus, in the back, waved at them, nervous. Odie grinned, pushing you inside the room followed by Jackal.

“Nosy are you-“

“Cut the crap!” you lifted him up by the collar, “Is there any Maliwan shits in here?! In the CoV?!” Jackal glanced at Odie, gesturing for him to tell you.

“Holy shit, you are fucking strong!” Odie mused, “U-Ugh, hey, not too tight, put me down and we’ll talk like civilized bandits!” You hissed, letting him go. You had no qualms of beating him up again if he got on your nerves.

“Odie… don’t provoke her…” Perseus said, glaring at his brother. Odie sighed. Too many people picking on him today.

“Andromeda, take a seat… please,” Jackal said, “And please just listen…” You couldn’t argue with the old man, nodding and sitting down at the couch, staring expectantly at Odie. Perseus went to stand by you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Well?” you said, your nerves going crazy.

“He’s here,” Odie said, staring at you, “A Maliwan envoy arrived earlier today. Katagawa was supposed to show up but instead its Cetus and Winona.” You heard Perseus say ‘shit’ next to you, but he sounded far away.

You took a deep breath, clasping your hands together. Numb. Your senses went numb. Your worst fears coming true.

Cetus was here.

Inside the CoV hub.

With Winona.

The two most dangerous people in Trinity.

“God help us all,” you whispered, placing your head between your hands, hanging low, “I can’t believe it…”

“A-Are you sure, Odie?” Perseus asked, “Is it true?” 

“It is,” Odie confirmed, “I showed Jackal the feed, it matched the description you guys gave me.”

“Including the woman, that Winona,” Jackal added, approaching you, “Andromeda, no matter what, you cannot, I repeat, cannot let the Calypsos know that ‘Master’ is here…”

“….” You were still trying to register the information, shaking a bit, “I’m aware…”

“What is going to be the plan? Besides trying to keep her calm?” Perseus asked, “What about the arena fight?”

Odie bit his lip. The Calypsos did not want you to fight this Let’s Flay since it dealt with the Rat King. They wanted to keep this a surprise, somewhat, from you but with the appearance of Cetus, Odie wasn’t sure how to proceed.

He had to bite the bullet on the issue.

“Andromeda, you will not be fighting this time around,” Odie said, a serious tone in his voice, “For your own good.” You looked up at him, blinking.

“What.”

“Andromeda-“ Perseus protested before he was cut off.

You got up, fists clenched, “You’re hiding something.” Odie gave you a tiny smile, amused that you picked up on his intentions.

“I suppose there is no point in hiding this from you, either way, you’d find out,” Odie sighed, pushing you back to the couch. Jackal ushered Perseus to the side, getting updates on the mechanic’s projects. You glanced at them then back at Odie.

“What is going on? No games,” you threatened.

“No need to be all mad. Geez. Anyways, this arena fight is different…” Odie said, pondering how to describe it, “It’s a Let’s Flay, but not for playthings. The Calypsos will be fighting.”

You snorted, “What? Against each other for my favor?” You let out a dry laugh at the thought. Odie didn’t want to indulge you on it either, despite how close your deduction was.

“I bet you wish that huh? Pft, no… the Rat King was brought back alive from the raid,” Odie continued, watching your face contort into anger and disgust.

“He’s not dead?!” you shouted, shocked, “Of fucking course… Ugh…” You shuddered, “What does he have to do with the arena fight?”

“Well, technically this arena fight was my idea, but I was not aware about Maliwan coming over,” Odie added, “So it’s a display of ‘good’ graces with the corporation. The Calypsos are fighting and killing the Rat King.”

You looked down at the floor, quiet, “….” Of all things to happen, Cetus being here, Rat King still alive, it was piling up. You let out a frustrated sigh, stomping your feet. Odie stared at you, looking for any cues in your mood.

“Your presence will be required in the fight, just an FYI,” Odie continued, hands on hips, “Don’t worry, you won’t be anywhere Cetus at all. He will be seated elsewhere.” This did little to calm you but struck something in you. Shaking your head, you stood up, crossing your arms while looking at Odie.

“I’m opposed to that,” you stated, narrowing your eyes, “They have no quarrel with the Rat King, I do. If the Calypsos didn’t kill him the first time, that’s on them.”

“What, don’t tell me you want to fight the Rat King? You escaped and he kept making comments about how you were scared of him,” the general said, “So which is it?”

“Right, right, because being drugged up and close to getting raped by that fucking asshole wouldn’t trigger my fight-or-flight senses!” you shouted, pissed off. Perseus and Jackal stopped what they were doing and looked at you and Odie, worried. The general rubbed his forehead, irritated. 

“Andromeda…” Perseus said, approaching you, “Remember to keep calm…”

“How am I supposed to keep calm? Ugh!” you glared at Odie, “I don’t know how you are going to do it, but I’m the one fighting the Rat King, not the Calypsos! They don’t deserve it! You refuse and I will fucking jump into the damn pit!” 

“…You know she’ll do it…” Jackal commented, “If what you said is true about the Calypsos wanting her to be in the arena to watch….”

“I’m aware… and I figured you’d say something like that after telling you about Cetus and the Rat King. I may have an excuse to convince Troy and Tyreen to relinquish the fight to you,” Odie stated, seeing your shocked face.

“Oh..? You do?” you asked, surprised.

Odie grinned, then stuck his tongue out, “I just wanted to hear your thoughts about it first, won’t be easy with the Calypsos, but that’ll be on me.”

You turned to Perseus, somewhat uncomfortable, “He reads me too well….” Perseus shrugged, giving you a sympathetic look. Odie laughed, approaching and smacking you on the shoulder.

“Hahaha! Get used it, buttercup!” Odie said, “So I suggest get ready for whatever you have there.” He gestured at the table with several mechanical contraptions, “I’ll send a message to Jackal about the outcome with the Twin Gods. All I ask if you don’t go searching for Cetus or try to attack him in the arena, that will make matters worse for all of us here.”

You snorted but nodded, “Alright.”

“That’s the spirit!” the general said, heading towards the door, “Behave!” He exited the study, slamming the door. You rolled your eyes, plopping down on the couch, upset.

“I’ll get to finishing the mask and the other items,” Perseus said, ruffling your hair, “Don’t overthink this too much.”

“I have a few things to adjust to your outfit, but it will be ready for the right,” Jackal said, taking out the box with your jacket and gloves, “Odie said some new ‘contraptions’ have been added to the arena for this fight… didn’t go into specifics.”

You pushed off Perseus hand, fixing your hair, “Its all good, I’ve fought in different arena fights and all.. Shouldn’t be any different, I should be able to handle it… Thanks again for putting up with me…”

“Heh, things do get interesting, but remember we’re a team,” Jackal said.

“Yep!” Perseus added, grinning, “We got this!”

You smiled, “Yeah, we do.”

You were going to show Cetus what happens when he messes with you.

\--------000000000---------

After the gruesome fight with Cepheus, you were on edge, ready to lash out. For once, Tyreen left you to your own devices, mostly for her sake as well. She was irritated that you didn’t want to talk about the Terror of the Waste, to the point that Troy had to intervene to stop her from punishing you. 

Was it worry? Tyreen couldn’t pinpoint the reaction. 

It did hurt seeing you in pain. Although she’d babble on about herself, the few pieces of information you’d give her when alone was mostly about the warehouse, small talk. Maybe she thought this would be a chance for you to seek her out, for comfort. Seeking out the God Queen to make you feel better. For Tyreen to hold you in her arms, whisper assurances that everything was okay because she was there.

But you didn’t. That upset her.

She’d pick up on your anger, fists clenching, jaw tightened, and the tension in your forehead. 

For once, she wasn’t the target of those expressions. 

However, you became the target of her rage. Jealousy reared its ugly head in after someone in the EchoNet forums began sending cryptic messages about you and showing photos of an unknown past. That wasn’t the reason for Tyreen’s anger – it was Troy’s knowledge of seeing and hearing you laugh.

“When she laughs, her lips curl in a grin, almost cat-like.” 

Troy’s words pissed her off. She assumed Troy would get the same treatment from you, the hissing, the growling, the snarls, but that night confirmed her fears. You were more ‘cordial’ with him. She never saw you smile at her, she was aware how you looked like by spying on you via the surveillance cameras, but in her presence, you were void of emotion other than anger. 

Eventually, she sought you out for answers. Not about Cepheus, not about the arena fight, not about anything else.

But why.

Why was her brother worthy of something she felt was rightfully hers.

Your response? Grinning at the prospect of death at her hands.

The cat-like grin. It reminded her of her adoptive mother, Pleione. El Capitan, the ruthless bandit that had left her mark in the wastes. Tyreen remembered the bandit lord dying with a smile on her face.

The God Queen felt something tug at her heart again. 

\---------0000000000----------

Tyreen and Tyreen were at the arena, overseeing the late additions to the fighting pit, and talking to Basil on how the new devices would work during the fight. The normal fighting pit had the basic construction debris and platforms. For this special Let’s Flay, it was retrofitted with electrified metal grates, explosions and fire barrels, spiked walls, a literal fire wall on the edges to deter the Rat King from escaping, and corrosive pipes feeding into pits in the arena. 

A complete battlefield fit for a bandit lord.

“You went all out on this Basil,” Troy observed, peering at the edge of the arena, “Odie’s suggestions?”

“Pft, yeah, I think being out there in the wastes got his creative mind working, ha!” Basil commented, checking a console and wireless control, “Its more for flashy shit, what the viewers like.”

“Perfect,” Tyreen said, eyeing the cultists testing out the electrical current on the metal grates, “Can’t wait to beat the shit out of that bastard.”

“Not if I beat you to it,” Troy said, huffing. Commotion was heard from the side, the Calypsos and Basil tuning in on it. Odie, loud and boisterous, made his way towards them, grinning.

“What’s up!” Odie said, bowing before them, “I am here to deliver bad and good news!”

“What,” both twins said in unison, Basil raised his eyebrows.

“Which one do you want? Good or the bad news?” Odie said, still smiling. 

“What do you mean by bad news? What did you do?!” Troy asked, his gut telling him Odie messed up somehow. Tyreen looked frustrated, “You must have done something if you are here.”

Odie’s smile never faltered as he continued, “Well, bad news is I may have accidently told the God Queen’s plaything about the fight!” He clapped while seeing the twin’s expressions drop. Basil muttered an ‘oh shit!’ at the general.

“YOU WHAT!” 

“Good news is she wants to fight the Rat King and doesn’t want you two fighting! How nice of her,” Odie finished, placing his hands behind his back, “I mean, she is the star of the Let’s Flay, right?”

“What the fuck Odie! This fight was supposed to show we are serious about her!” Tyreen yelled, “And you just went up and ruined it!”

“Oh, yeah, I’m aware of that. What I wasn’t aware of or rather informed was that a Maliwan envoy was to meet with the CoV,” Odie kept smiling. He was pissed, but at least he might bend the truth to your favor. He had to plan for any attempts by Cetus should the man interfere and contact you. 

“Odie-“ Troy was cut off by the general. Basil excused himself, not wanting to hear the arguments. 

“Convenient you left that out of the report, Troy,” Odie said, now staring at the twins, “I wouldn’t have come over if I had to deal with corporate shits.”

“We required your help with this Master asshole,” Troy said, “You saw what he was capable of at the Rat King’s base.”

“And also with my plaything…” Tyreen added, sighing, “What did you tell her?”

“Oh, you know, just that the Twins Gods were going to fight the Rat King in front of everyone to show good graces with Maliwan, our beloved corporate sponsor!” Odie chirped, “And then she got mad!”

“Damn it Odie…” Tyreen said, biting her thumb, “Ugh, we can’t let her fight!”

“Why not? She is the CoV sweetheart, the feral bloodthirsty plaything! Have her take down a bandit lord in a crazy arena!” Odie walked towards the edge of the arena, “Besides, you trust armed cultists with the security of that Maliwan douche?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Troy sighed, hating to admit the truth in Odie’s words, “Ugh, what do we do, Ty?”

“We’ve seen her already on edge, I hardly doubt she’d stay calm during the fight…” Tyreen observed, deep in thought, “Worse comes to worse, she’ll most likely jump into the arena…”

Bingo, Odie thought. 

“And we can’t have that! So, I suggest just leave this one to her, there will be other chances for you two, just… not now!” Odie grinned, “So its settled, you two will observe the fight while keeping tabs on that Maliwan guy for security purposes, Tyreen’s plaything will fight the Rat King!”

“Its your damn fault,” Troy hissed out, “For telling her…”

“What? I went to check on her and all,” Odie chuckled at Troy’s glare. 

“Fine, whatever, but if anything happens to her, it will be on you, Odie,” Troy growled, not liking the arrangement. 

“Heard you loud and clear!” the general saluted, “So it’s all good?”

“Yes,” Tyreen sighed, “I’m hoping she’d be more willing to talk to us after this. I’m sure she needs another punching bag.”

“Same! I’m still hurting from her punches, ehehe. I can see why you guys like her, its downright sexy,” Odie mused, then laughed at the Calypsos’ glares, “I’m joking! Geez!”

For his own good, he better be.

\------00000000000---------

Family was everything, having each other’s back and all. This never applied to the Calypsos. 

Tyreen wanted to throttle Troy. A tiny smidge of her kept telling her karma caught up to her for dismissing many of his ‘bedwarmers.’ His current one, Helen, had a jealous and bad temper streak, lashing out at those she deemed were getting Troy’s attention.

Troy pestering you made you a target now, Tyreen was sure about that.

However, Troy had just confessed to his own sister he ‘liked’ you. Not in the lustful way.

Admiration.

Troy spoke with reverence and amazement at your skills as a mechanic, especially when servicing his arm.

She saw red.

You didn’t belong to him.

You belonged to her.

“Stay away from her,” Tyreen threatened, clenching her fists. Troy stared at her, furious. 

He wasn’t going to take you away form her.

\-------0000000000--------- 

“Sir, we have received another report,” Winona announced, bringing up the message on her screen, “Seems like there’s been changes to the Calypsos’ fight tonight.”

“Changes?” Cetus asked, “Go on.” 

“Report states the Calypsos won’t be fighting the Rat King, someone else is… Andromeda will be doing the honors,” Winona said, surprised, “She’s fighting?”

“How odd,” Cetus commented, “Any reason for that change?”

“Apparently Troy Calypso’s right-hand man, Odysseus, may have relayed the Calypsos’ intentions for the fight to Her Majesty, managed to get them to change their mind,” Winona answered, reading through the report, “This means…”

“She knows I’m here,” Cetus said, smirking, “This should prove to be entertaining.”

“Sir… shouldn’t we try to contact her…?” Winona asked.

“No, this meeting was simply for Maliwan,” Cetus said, touching his silver ring, “Any business with the organization is another matter. Orders are set, Winona, you are not to contact her, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Winona answered, doubting. The woman wanted to speak to you but knew better under these circumstances. 

“We are to watch this fight and leave,” Cetus said, sighing, “I can’t stand this uncultured place.”

Winona agreed, but was worried about your behavior in helping out the Calypsos against Trinity.

\--------0000000000--------

Her perfect paradise was destroyed. Tyreen was having a hard time dealing with her jealousy stemming from her brother, but now she acknowledged there was someone else that actually had your attention. 

A mechanic you worked with at the warehouse. 

She paid no attention to him while watching you through the surveillance, but the man kept showing up over and over again, always stuck with you. To her dismay, you never pushed him away, actually laughing and being social. 

Something you never did with her and perhaps never. A horrible pain would pop out from time to time in her chest, bothering Tyreen, even at times crying in frustration every time she’d see you interact with the man. She would yell and throw items at the surveillance feed, screaming and cursing the man’s existence. 

She wanted him far away from you. 

After the disastrous raid at the Atlas stronghold, almost losing Troy and her powers not working against the enemy who still mocked her for knowing about you… Tyreen sought you out yet again.

She needed someone to comfort her and the only person she could think of was you.

The man was there. Perseus was his name. He quickly excused himself, leaving the infirmary. You were about to follow him when Tyreen stopped you – yelling at you – pleading – why – why – why – why deny her.

You stared her.

“I hate you, you’re a monster.”

**It was lonely at the top.**

“A Siren monster.”

Tyreen screamed.

\-----0000000000000-------

“I did several tests and did some modifications from the blueprints you gave me,” Perseus said, showing Helen’s psycho mask to you, pointing out the new mods, “I was able to salvage another power cell from a digistructor for this, I placed sensors on the area over the cheeks.”

You watched in amazement as Perseus explained further how to activate the mods, “Holy shit, you went all out in this… I’m very impressed… Oh wifey, this is why I love you.” The mechanic laughed.

“Heh, what can I say? I’m a badass!” Perseus grinned, handing you the mask, “I wish I could have created something similar to the blueprints, but those required state of the art metal pieces that unfortunately we don’t have.”

“No, no, this will do fine, more original feel to it…” you said, touching the mask’s bullet hole in the forehead, “It will do fine…”

“Don’t forget about me!” Jackal pitched in, showing the jacket, “Added some flame-resistant fabric on the inside, a bit of coating on the outside, not too much, but you won’t catch on fire too easily. That’s not an initiation to go douse yourself in gasoline and go through the firewall!”

You laughed, standing up to view the outfit modifications, “I didn’t think of that, but that’s a wonderful suggestion!” Jackal gave you a disappointed look.

“Augh, don’t give me that parental look of disappointment!” you covered your eyes with your hand, then peeking. Jackal raised his eyebrow, still looking at you, Perseus snickered.

“I promise not to throw myself on the fire…” you muttered, seeing Jackal shake his head as he took out more garments from the box.

“You will get a stern scolding if you do it,” Jackal added, showing you more clothes, “Patched up your pants and belt as well, gloves are still intact.” You nodded, taking a look over the items, satisfied. 

“I know we keep repeating ourselves, but this fight is vastly different from the previous ones,” Perseus said, handing over the digistructors to you, “Don’t do anything rash, especially with that guy around. Like my brother said, the Twin Gods can’t know Cetus’s real identity.”

“I agree on that, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has other shits on standby in case he thinks his safety is in jeopardy,” you commented, “What worries me is Winona…”

“Winona?” Jackal asked, “You mentioned Cetus sometimes leaves her in charge.”

You nodded, “She and I… had a close relationship – not in that way, per se. She is the one who oversees the research aspect of Trinity, has an extensive background in bioengineering…”

“But she knows how to fight, hack, and all other sorts of things, no?” Perseus said, “You think she will make a move?”

“Maybe, but she follows orders as told. So, if Cetus tells her not to attack, she won’t attack,” you said, tapping your chin, “But she disobeyed many things while I was there because of me.”

“We need to tell Odie about it, so he can be ready in case she tries anything,” Perseus looked at Jackal who took out his EchoNet device. You grimaced at the turn of events, worried. 

Your past was catching up to you fast.

\--------00000000---------

Tyreen stared at her exhausted face in the mirror. What felt like months and months of agony, all happened in the span of a few hours. Your words rung in her head over and over again, driving her mad. 

“I hate you.”

She was the brightest star, an ethereal being, a god among mortals. All other playthings feared her, sought her out, gravitated towards her. 

 

“You’re a Siren monster.”

You never did. 

She would always get bored and kill her playthings, and the instances that Troy would kill them, it was out of spite against her for dismissing his lovers. She never wept for any plaything.

She did for you.

Jealousy, anger, irritation.

Feelings long kept under her godly queen persona flooded out.

Jealousy against Troy. Jealousy against Perseus. 

Why – why – why – she wanted to know why she wasn’t spared a glance, a smile, a laugh –

**EVERYONE LOVED HER, WHY DIDN’T YOU?**

Tyreen would soon get her answer with grave consequences.

\-----00000000000----

Pip whistled a little tune as he checked over the holding cells of the trapped Rat bandits, jotting information down in a tablet. He had received an odd request from the Calypsos to make sure the Rat King was in good shape for the fight after being injected with the serum. That, and to do a last minute surgery to give him hand prosthetics.

“Hmm, the damage from the hot oil has healed up, I’m impressed by the serum’s healing quality,” Pip said, in deep thought, “I wonder if I can double the dosage on some of you.” He smirked as he looked at several Rat bandits. Some of the bandits hissed at him, but fear was present in their eyes.

“Aw, what’s the matter? I bet you all never got a chance to experience the rush of energy from the serum, right? All this time, your boss was the one getting jacked up!” Pip laughed, kicking the cell bars, spooking some bandits, “Don’t worry, some of you will be chosen!”

“Eat shit CoV asshole!” a bandit shouted.

“Ah, a volunteer!” Pip said, delighted as he snapped his fingers. Medics opened the cell, dragging the bandit out who struggled against their grip. The medic general took out a capsule feeder, ordering the medics to grab the bandit’s head.

“Easy there, this will only hurt a bit!” Pip made a quick incision at the back of the neck of the bandit, inserting the thin capsule feeder, “And there we go!” He quickly closed the cut up, patting the area. He had the bandit thrown back into the cell.

“Wonderful, wonderful! Can’t wait to see you in action in the arena!” Pip snickered, receiving a ping in EchoNet device, “Ah, its showtime everybody! Haul these assholes into the loading area. Make sure to keep the Rat bastard sedated until the fight starts!” 

.:INCOMING MESSAGE:.

.:Pip: Everyone set, several bandits have capsule feeders. A good trial.

.:Basil: Excellent, my guys will finish off on our end.

Pip put his EchoNet device away, seeing the Calypsos approaching him, “My God Queen, Father Troy, we are ready.”

“Excellent, monitor and observe the serum on the bandits and the Rat King. We need to know more about its capabilities,” Tyreen said, her Siren tattoos glowing brightly, “Any update on your report from the raid?”

Her powers working on the Fanatics but not on the Jesters.

“Almost finished with it, but I may have a hypothesis for your condition,” Pip said, bringing up a display on the serum’s chemical components, “And most likely your plaything knows specific details-“

“She can’t know about it,” Troy interjected, “We went over this, Pip.” 

“I am aware of that, this is where my hypothesis comes in,” Pip continued, adjusting his glasses, “Its not about the serum, but what about the body mod used in conjunction with it?”

“The capsule feeders?” Tyreen questioned, blinking, “Another component?”

“Something like that,” Pip said, “Maybe there is something else, a material used on those Jesters that affects your powers. The serum is the same from what I’ve obtained from their bodies and the Rat King’s lair. I triple checked.”

“Shit, we just keep getting less questions answered…” Troy pulled at his hair, “Any way you can check again those broken mods?”

“I’ve done that, and I can’t find anything,” Pip showed images of the metal skeleton and jack ports, “Even these as well were checked. The notes the God Queen’s plaything gave me do not mention a special material because she doesn’t know about this side effect most likely.”

“….Hold off on that for the moment, but keep an eye out for serum behaviors,” Tyreen ordered, looking at Troy, “We have to go now and meet with that Cetus guy.”

“I will do my best, my God Queen,” Pip bowed, returning with the medics on the side of the loading area. 

“Ugh, I hate having to explain changes, but whatever,” Troy said, following Tyreen out of the area, and up the ramp into the spectator area of the arena. 

It was going to be a long night for everyone. 

\--------0000000---------

Screams, screams, screams, SNAP, SNAP, SNAP.

That’s all that echoed in Tyreen’s head night after night, day after day. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror stared back, pitying her current state. She hadn’t bothered to clean her face from the makeup, mascara running down her cheeks, giving her a somber look. 

She threatened Perseus to stay away from you. She punished you for being near him. She punished Helen by having Donovan kill the priestess. She punished Troy for taking what was hers.

Tyreen had beaten you up to remind you of your place: A plaything. She was oblivious to the extent of your injuries, believing everything would be okay, that she’d return later on to taunt you.

To make sure you were broken enough for her.

**It was lonely at the top.**

And now you were in a coma-like state because of her. You were dying. The once ferocious, feral plaything brought down by the God Queen.

Perseus was angry at her for not allowing him to be near his friend. Troy was extremely furious at the extent of your injuries. Jackal looked at her and Donovan in disdain, hate for the death of his daughter. 

Everything was falling apart. There was no one to comfort her. The one person she wanted to run to was close to death. Tyreen punched the mirror, screaming, ignoring the pain in her hand and the shards embedded on her skin. The physical pain she was feeling paled in comparison to her inner turmoil. 

She screamed for hours long, throat on fire, her tears burning her eyes in the bathroom. She was an idiot, she gave in to Master’s taunting words.

/You are unable to tame her./

“What have I done?!” Tyreen screamed, smacking her head, the mirror shards captured by her hair, “WHAT HAVE I DONE?!” 

/Congratulations, you broke her spirit./

“A broken rib, internal bleeding,” Pip informed her and Troy, “She’s been bleeding internally for a few days.”

Since the fight.

Tyreen felt ill, nauseous, her stomach emptying out as she threw up in the toilet. The irony. Jackal had informed Pip the condition of your place, dark bile in your own bathroom, looking like a murder scene as dry blood was strewn on the walls and floor. 

Your last hours before being found were miserable.

And you were alone.

Tyreen wept more, leaning against the bathroom wall, wiping the bile from her lips. No one would come looking for her out of fear. Troy was stuck to your side and he had less of a reason to check up on his sister. 

How pathetic. 

The God Queen reduced to this, she thought. 

The next few days were a nightmare for Tyreen. She kept up a façade for the cultists, all smiles and authoritative attitude but once she stepped into the infirmary to check up on you, dread would creep up. She feared running into Pip telling her you didn’t make it. Her ongoing anxiety was dealing with Troy’s temper.

“What are you doing here….” Troy hissed out, his breathing labored, expression of pure anger. Both Tyreen and Troy were not sleeping well, the latter refusing to leave your bedside.

“I came to check on her progress…” Tyreen said, voice small. 

“GET OUT!” Troy barked out, snarling. He grabbed one of the stools by him, throwing it at her. Tyreen managed to dodge, the stool hitting the wall outside the room. Eyes wide in shock, Tyreen stared at her brother. 

They would normally fight and take it out on each other in the Harvest grounds, away from cultists’ eyes.

**He had tried to struck at her out in the open.**

She ducked her head, turning around, leaving the room. 

\--------0000000000000----------

The crowd was rowdy and loud, chanting out praises for the Calypsos, pumped up in energy after the announcement of the Let’s Flay. Signs with cartoonish versions of Troy and Tyreen were held by several CoV cultists, including flags bearing the cult’s sigil. 

“CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

Near the high viewing platform that seated the thrones of Tyreen and Troy were the Eridium-tier followers, the VIPs. Close by, under heavy guard, the Maliwan envoy was seated, observing the activity around them. Cetus eyed the CoV fanatics, a bit annoyed. 

“To think that the CoV has their own kind of ‘royalty,’” Cetus mused, looking at the arena’s landscape, “Wasteland royalty.”

“Yes, sir,” Winona agreed, blinking when she saw the Calypsos approaching them, “Sir.” Cetus tuned his attention to them, smiling.

“Ah, a talk before the big fight?” Cetus asked, gesturing for the Maliwan soldiers to lower their guns, “Please excuse them.”

Troy snapped his jaws at the soldiers, huffing, “Pricks – and there’s been a change of plans.”

“Change?” Cetus feigned knowing about it.

“Mm, yes, my brother and I won’t be fighting this time around, figured it’d be best to showcase our best fighter!” Tyreen grinned, “Who knows, maybe you will be amazed by her performance!”

“Oh, well, either way I’m very interested to see a Let’s Flay,” Cetus said, chuckling, “See more about this Livestream – Livescream?”

“Yes, LiveScream. You won’t have to worry about our followers bothering you, as long as we are around, they won’t come around, hehe,” Tyreen smirked, raising her Siren hand up, an orb appearing, “You’re in safe hands.”

Cetus gave her a curt nod, “Thank you once again for the hospitality.” Winona observed Tyreen’s powers, then glanced at Troy’s marks.

“Show is about to start, so sit back and relax!” Troy said, laughing, walking away towards the thrones. Tyreen waved at Cetus and Winona before approaching her throne, taking out her EchoNet device. Cetus got comfortable in his seat, noticing Odie in his peripheral view near the tunnels leading into the back area of the arena.

The general’s smile was unsettling. 

To think I have to watch out for that man, Cetus thought. The lights of the arena dimmed, catching the attention of Cetus and Winona. A hologram of Mouthpiece appeared in the center stage, surveyors flying around. 

“ALL RISE FOR THE GLORIOUS TWIN GODS! ALL RISE FOR THE GOD QUEEN!” Mouthpiece announced, the crowd standing up and screaming, chanting out in excitement.

“CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS! CALYPSOS!”

“TONIGHT, WE CELEBRATE THE TWIN GODS’ VICTORY OVER THE HEATHEN RAT KING! WHAT IS A KING TO A GOD?! NOTHING! ABSOLUTE SCUM!” Mouthpiece continued, fireworks set off, “THE HEATHEN THOUGHT HE COULD BEST THE CHILDREN OF THE VAULT BUT NOW –“ He pointed down at the arena.

A spotlight shined into the pit, the arena’s walls collapsing on one side as Moksha led the Rat King into the area. The bandit lord was chained up, severely burned from the face and shoulders, remnants of the hot oil treatment of the priests, staggered forward. The crowd broke out in ‘Boos!’ and ‘Heathen!’ and calling the Rat King names. 

“You’re quite popular, Rat King,” Moksha laughed, tugging at the chains, “Be a good boy and settle down.”

“You fucking bitch- GAH!” the bandit lord met the end of a stun rod, kneeling down, wheezing. Moksha whistled, alerting priests to roll in cages with Rat bandits. The bandits were clamoring for mercy, others cursing at the CoV cultists. Several of them were not moving, but visibly shaking and sweating a lot. 

“KILL! KILL! KILL!” the crowd chanted.

Moksha and the priests withdrew back into the waiting area, the walls closing up. Mouthpiece’s hologram disappeared, only to be replaced by the Calypsos.

“Hey, hey brothers and sisters! God Queen Tyreen bringing you a special Let’s Flay! You all have enjoyed our raid LiveScream and what better way to continue the fun fest than showcasing my plaything’s ferocity once again! I know you all missed her!” Tyreen announced, blowing out kisses to the crowd, “My plaything wanted some playmates!”

“JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER!” Several cultists flipped their signs, showing your sigil with the skull and broken lower jaw. 

“Wow! Do you hear that, Tyreen?” Troy said, placing his hand by his ear, “They want to see your plaything!”

“I can’t hear them, Troy!” Tyreen giggled, leaning forward. 

“JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER!” the crowd grew louder, the surveyors whooshed by the VIP spectator section and then to the regular cultists, the feed displayed in a big hologram screen next to the Calypsos.

“Oh! Now I do hear them! My darling Jawbreaker will delight you all with a fantastic fight! She will go up against the Rat King and his little rats!” Tyreen announced, pointing to the side of the arena. The spotlight switched over to that direction, the wall collapsing to allow entrance to the arena.

A surveyor went below, the feed updating on the large hologram screen. The crowd gasped with a series of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs.’ Cetus leaned forward, catching a glimpse of the action. 

You stepped into the arena, heavy footsteps sounding from your boots. Your outfit drastically changed from the previous Let’s Flay: your once red jacket now sported a black hoodie; the ripped-off sleeves had a combination of black fabric with white; your black gloves were thicker and had nuts and bolts screwed on the knuckle areas; and near the wrist area, the digistructors laid neatly on the fabric; your once grey pants were now black; and your black tank top was replaced with a red turtle neck with a black CoV insignia in the chest area. 

The only detail that remained the same was the psycho mask that previously belonged to Helen, covering up your face.

“JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER!” the crowd resumed their chants when you threw up a victory signs, raising your arms up as you walked further into the arena. The Calypsos were surprised at your wardrobe change, but more on the use of the CoV insignia. 

They didn’t want to read too much into it.

“There she is everyone! She is ready to tear a new one to the Rat bandits!” Troy announced, whooping along with the crowd, “The arena is now a warzone! The Jawbreaker vs the Rats! LET THE FIGHT BEGIN!”

The holograms of the Calypsos disappeared, the airhorns sounding off with the firewall around the arena blazing up. The cages that housed the Rat bandits collapsed, the Rat King stood up, growling and snarling. You waved at him, standing still by your area. Cetus and Winona’s attention were focused on you.

You hadn’t acknowledged their presence so far. 

Troy and Tyreen watched intently, waiting for your first move. Odie had already informed them you were upset at the thought of the Calypsos fighting the Rat King. Should this work out, they hoped it’d be easier for them to talk to you. 

“So… you’ve become the Calypsos’ whore, huh?” the Rat King hissed out, struggling to stand up, “You fucking bitch, feeling high and mighty since they are around… you couldn’t even fight me three years ago….” He clenched his mechanical arms, itching to punch you.

You tilted your head at his comment, then flipped him off. This angered the bandit lord. Before he could say anything else, he looked up at the Calypsos, glaring at them but paused at the sight of someone else.

Cetus.

The Maliwan man was intently staring down at him. The Rat King’s eyes widen in surprise and shock, fear hitting him. Cetus narrowed his eyes, disdain present on his face. 

“H-He’s here…” The Rat King whispered, quickly turning to look at you. Summoning a chain, you swung it around, casually walking through the hazards of the arena, making your way towards him and the Rat bandits. His subordinates cowered in horror as you approached them. However, several were stumbling, having a difficult time paying attention to their surroundings. 

Something is off, you thought, I’ll have to be extra careful with those ones.

“D-Don’t just stand there! Attack her!” the Rat King shouted, snarling. The bandits stood their ground, staring at you as you stopped a few feet away, swinging the chain. It struck the surrounding electrified metal grates, sparks flying everywhere.

“THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING STARES DOWN AT THE RATS! WHAT WILL BE HER FIRST MOVE?!” Mouthpiece yelled, bringing the spotlight on you. Odie, from the sidelines, kept watch on Cetus and down at the arena, praying you wouldn’t do anything too drastic. 

Troy gripped tight onto his seat, agitated. Tyreen mouthed at him to ‘keep calm.’ The tall Calypso did not like the idea of the Rat King being near you after finding out about the bandit lord’s obsession with you, disgusted by the shrine at the base. His thoughts were interrupted when the crowd gasped, breaking into a ruckus. 

You were holding a Rat bandit by the neck, causing panic amongst the others. Giggling, you shook the bandit as they struggled against your grip. Your hold on their neck tightened, hearing the cracking of bones. Ceasing, you slammed down the bandit to the ground, immediately sticking the chain into mouth to keep it open, tugging at the lower jaw. Blood curling screams sounded off from the bandit as they punched and kicked at you. A gush of blood splashed on you as you managed to rip their lower jaw, pulling away hand holding it up high for everyone to see.

The crowd whooped, continuing their chants, “JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER!” You threw the jaw down the ground, goading the crowd to continue. The bandit attempted to crawl away, crying and screaming in pain, a blood trail left behind. You followed them, stepping on their back, leaning forward and twisting their neck. 

“Ooh!” the crowd roared.

“A DEVASTATING FIRST MOVE! THE FIRST KILL BY THE JAWBREAKER!” Mouthpiece announced. Troy and Tyreen were reeling with excitement, watching as you ran towards the other bandits, ignoring the Rat King. You chased after the bandits, tossing several into the spiked walls and coiling your chains around the feet of several, dragging them into the dug-out pits with corrosive material, laughing all along. Feeling bold, several Rat bandits began fighting back, using the fire and explosive barrels against you. 

With several close calls, you switched to long range attacks, managing to capture a bandit, pulling them towards you, pining them down while grabbing an electrified metal grate and smashing it on their face, shaking off the shocks coursing through your body.

“GAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!” the bandit thrashed as the electricity got amped up, the crackling and sizzling of flesh wafting in the arena. You cackled, pressing the metal grate more into their body, parts of their clothes catching on fire. 

“WHAT A SHOCKING TWIST!” Mouthpiece shouted, “RELENTLESS AND UNHINGED THE PLAYTHING IS!”

“JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER!” the crowd chanted. 

“Beat the shit out of them!” Troy shouted, whooping, “Show them what you are made of!” Seeing you fight was getting him pumped up, his worries slowly disappearing. He had seen you fight numerous times, you had overcome numerous obstacles and enemies, there was no way you’d have any trouble with the Rat King. But his gut was telling him not to get too comfortable.

“Annihilate them!” Tyreen yelled, raising her fist up, “Destroy them!” The God Queen was feeling alive, reenergized. She forgot how amazing it was watching you destroy the competition, dominate the arena. It was almost a déjà vu for her, recalling your first arena fight where you triumphed against all odds. But she couldn’t shake the tiny smidge of anxiety. 

Cetus glanced at them, then at you. By now, you had already disposed of the majority of the Rat bandits, leaving the Rat King alone. What caught his attention were the remaining bandits that remained close to the bandit lord, their body mass slowly increasing in size.

The Rat King observed you chasing the other bandits, pondering on his next move. The arena’s firewalls would inflict severe damage to his already weakened body despite being injected with the serum by Pip for the fight. 

“Boss…” one of the bandits gasped out, “I don’t feel so good…”

The bandit lord sneered at his subordinate, but saw the telltale signs of the serum’s effect on the bandit’s skin. He checked the others, seeing the same signs. 

“No fucking way….” the Rat King hissed out.

He wasn’t the only that had been injected with the serum. 

\----------0000000000--------

“My brother was killed by a Siren!” you shouted, snarling at Tyreen. She was paralyzed by shock and terror. All this time she wanted answers.

“To think he ends up killed by a Siren and I end up as a fucking plaything for another Siren!” you added, hands twitching. She never expected this.

You screeched as you pulled at your IV and tried to hit Tyreen with the IV stand. She nursed her cuts inflicted by the scalpel you had managed to pick up.

“Y-Your wounds are going to open!” she begged, pleaded, voice cracking. You didn’t care. Troy and the other medics had barged in by then, seeing you disheveled, disorientated.

Tyreen screamed as she saw you plunge the scalpel on your neck, banging your head on the bed and falling on the floor, blood gushing out from your self-inflicted wound. She rushed forward, ignoring Troy’s protests, quickly grabbing you. Her clothes began soaking your blood, the bump on your head bleeding as well. She frantically tried to activate her powers to close the wound, crying to Troy to help her.

“TROY! TROY!” she shouted out, “WE HAVE TO CLOSE THE WOUND!” Her brother was immediately next to her, his human hand shaking as he and Tyreen placed their hands on your wound, summoning energy to heal it. Neither said anything as they heard you gasp, grow pale every second the wound wasn’t closed. 

What seemed like an eternity, ended quickly as the wound was healed, leaving behind a bloody mess on the Calypsos and yourself, including the floor of the infirmary. Tyreen was shaking, holding you tight. Troy had the other medics approach, Pip barging in a few moments later.

“GET AWAY!” Tyreen hissed out, holding you protectively, “GET. AWAY!”

“Tyreen, let her go!” Troy growled out, “She needs to be checked, she lost a lot of blood!”

“N-No, I’ll heal her!” Tyreen pleaded, “I’LL HEAL HER!”

**SLAP!**

Troy slapped Tyreen, managing to pry you off her arms, letting the medics and Pip examine you. Tyreen screeched, struggling against Troy’s hold as she was dragged out of the room. Her brother shoved her out, standing in front of the entrance to the room. Tyreen tried to get past him, meeting his mechanical arm.

“Back off!” Troy barked out, “This is your fucking fault!” His own senses were on overdrive, the scent of your blood igniting intense anger.

“SHUT UP!” Tyreen shouted, “S-SHUT UP!” She looked down at herself, shaking, covered in your blood. Her hands were stained as well.

It was no different from the beating, her own hands smeared with your blood as she punched and dug into your wounds. Even as you fought back, Tyreen’s hands were covered in the substance. 

She had messed up.

She had royally messed up, screwed up. She had yearned for your approval and messed up. Her own jealousy being a destructive force. 

Tyreen stood in front of Troy, lost in thought, defeated. She uttered no words to him, only turning around and leaving the infirmary. 

**It was lonely at the top.**

Cultists gasped at her bloody sight, moving out of her way as she headed towards your hut. The cleanup crew had already finished disinfecting your place, leaving it good as new. Tyreen threw her jacket on the floor of your small living room, entering your bedroom. She stood by the door, viewing the interior.

Tyreen had been in your room numerous times, now feeling suffocating. She went over to your bed, new mattress switched out, and laid down, hugging one of the pillows, imagining it was you, ignoring the blood staining the fresh bedsheets. She remembered the night you held on to her, for once, being to sleep well. Tyreen could hear your soft heartbeat, your breathing, and your snuggling on her chest, seeking warmth.

Warmth.

Comfort.

Tyreen took those for granted.

She had that even if you disliked her being near. 

“I got greedy, didn’t I?” Tyreen whispered, hugging the pillow tighter, shaking, “I’m a fucking idiot… What have I done?”

She hurt you. 

/My brother was killed by a Siren!/

A Siren had killed your brother, your resentment and hatred towards her type already present before you were captured. All of it was making sense, slowly, to Tyreen. Fresh tears spilled, Tyreen sobbing into the pillow. Everyone adored her, flocked to her, and worshipped her because she was a Siren.

Sleep was hard to come by in an empty home.

\-----00000000------

You were numb. The air was heavy with death, delicious death the little monster reminded you. Absolute mayhem, disarray, and complete chaos in the arena. 

He is watching us, the little monster said, we can’t disappoint him.

You laughed, holding your stomach. All bloody, crazed.

He is watching us, the little monster repeated, HE IS WATCHING US.

You dug deep into the Rat bandit’s stomach, pulling out their entrails and guts, watching them thrash and scream. What a beautiful piece of artwork, carved with your own hands. Bloody hands. Red hands. The crowd went wild, their chants of your nickname sounding far in the distance. A ringing noise overwhelmed your senses as you kept punching and digging more into the bandit’s body. 

RED RED RED RED RED RED RED

Giggling, you inhaled deeply, licking your lips behind the psycho mask, enjoying the sweet smell of burnt, putrid flesh. 

Oh.. its been so long, the little monster said, so long since we have been given toys to play with… we must enjoy, savor this moment…

“Ehehehe…” your hands twitched as you hunched over the now dead bandit, laughing. The surveyors were dancing around you, chirping. The overkill had been played for all to see, the crowd and the VIP eating it up. The Calypsos were entranced by your feral form. 

Cetus’s gaze never broke away from your form.

He is indeed watching you.

And that was picked up by Odie, who kept observing the man from a distance. Aside from knowing the man was the ‘Master’ and head of the Trinity, the general refused to step away, his instinct telling him that Cetus was up to no good if the Maliwan man showed up. Plus, Winona was equally dangerous.

You resumed your onslaught, the Rat bandits’ numbers dwindling save for those near the Rat King. Odie received a ping from his EchoNet device, the general patching through the audio.

“What is it?” Odie asked, in a low tone. 

“We got activity on the chat by the Unknown User,” Basil said, somewhat perplexed, “He’s only posting photos…”

“Save those photos and any text he sends…” Odie ordered, puzzled on the appearance of the Unknown User. The man behind the façade was sitting not too far from him. 

A fucking decoy, piece of shit, Odie thought.

“A COMPLETE RAMPAGE! BLOODTHIRSTY JAWBREAKER HAS PLOWED THROUGH THE RAT BANDITS!” Mouthpiece announced, the firewall flaring up. 

You dragged the last Rat bandit by the leg, swinging them up and throwing them against the spike wall, impaling the bandit. The crowd gasped, hollered, and shouted in glee at the bloody, brutal end. Pointing at the remaining bandits by the Rat King, you gestured at them by slicing your throat, heading their way.

“Let go,” the Rat King growled, “Let the serum take over...”

The five bandits surrounding him were in agonizing pain, scared as their bodies transformed, their skin turning to a deep shade of purple, eyes bloodshot, and tongue hanging out, drooling excessively. You paused, not expecting this. The Rat King was surprised by your demeanor.

“Seems like the Calypsos didn’t tell you about their little serum tryouts, huh?” the Rat King said, taunting you, “So much for being on the same page…” He snapped his fingers, directed the bandits at you, “Go all out, FUCKING KILL HER!”

Winona, astonished, glanced at Cetus. The man remained cool and collected, his expression neutral as he kept watching. 

“We should have told her…” Troy whispered to Tyreen, “You think she’ll be pissed off…?”

“She can handle this… we’ve seen her fight that Jester monstrosity before…” she whispered back, though nervous. 

Four of the five bandits rushed forward, their bodies contorted as they wailed and screamed in pain. You stepped back, barely dodging a punch as two of the bandits barraged attacked you, throwing you against a metal grate. The crowd roared, anxious. Snarling, you unstuck yourself from the grate, ripping it from the broken-down concrete wall, and slamming it on one of the bandits, sticking it into the tender flesh of their arm. 

The bandit screeched, immediately hitting you, pushing you backwards. The other two lunged forward in the air, doing a slam attack. You rolled out of the way, digistructing more chains on your hands, gripping tight at the ends. A spark ignited the chain, setting it on fire. 

“THE PLAYTHING HAS A NEW SET OF TOYS?!” Mouthpiece commented, the surveyors chasing you and the bandits around, “INCENDIARY EFFECT ON THE CHAINS!”

“How did she do that!?” Troy questioned, amazed.

“Who else?” Tyreen said, sounding bitter. This earned her a glare from Troy.

Odie did a fist bump, then glanced behind him, “It was you, wasn’t it?” Perseus was leaning against the wall, chuckling.

“What gave you that idea?” Perseus said, a smirk on his lips, “Besides, that is tame compared to the other things I made.” Odie raised an eyebrow at this, contemplating whether he should ask if that will put the Calypsos in risk during the fight. The general had seen all your Let’s Flays, every weapon you picked up, you immediately used it to destroy the arena, one way or another.

The crowd was glued to the action as you whipped at the four bandits, causing deep gashes and invoking incendiary damage. This slowed down the bandits’ movements, allowing you to deliver punches to their faces as they struggled to keep up. Punch after punch, kick after kick, you didn’t stop your barrage of attacks. 

“JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER!”

Pouncing on one of the bandits, you summoned the ceremonial dagger, forcing their mouth open and stabbing it through. With a quick tug, you ripped off the lower jaw, coiling a chain around the neck, sparking and igniting the body. The bandit screeched, flailing and running around, trying to throw you off. You jumped off, tugging back hard at the chain, the bandit falling backwards. Picking up a discarded metal rod, you impaled the bandit through the mouth, removing the dagger embedded. The fire popped the capsule feeder, rendering it unusable.

Cetus picked up on this while you reached into the bandit’s mouth to rip off the body mod. Crushing it in your hand, you threw the scraps aside, looking up at the Calypsos. They looked away, feigning innocence. 

“Pft, ahaha, the plaything is pissed,” Pip said through the EchoNet.

“Shut up, Pip,” Troy muttered, cutting off the audio feed. Tyreen rubbed her forehead, annoyed.

“ANOTHER RAT BASTARD DOWN!” Mouthpiece announced, “FOUR MORE TO GO AND THE RAT KING IS STILL KICKING!”

You swung double chains, both on fire, then ran towards the remaining three bandits, dodging their attacks with ease. Their bodies were further mutating, howling in pain as you whipped at their legs and arms. Your mind flashed images of the Jesters, their giggles and cries for playtime resonating in your mind. 

PLAYTIME, PLAYTIME, PLAYTIME, the little monster shouted, I WANT TO PLAY, LET ME OUT.

You pushed the little critter further back in your mind, scolding it. To release all constraints, the little monster would have to wait a little longer. You made quick work on the three bandits chasing you around, utilizing the chains and corrosive pits to subdue them, easily breaking the capsule feeders on the nape of their necks. As you watched the last bandit cry out in pain, your attention turned to the one bandit next to the Rat King who did not join the others in attacking you.

All eyes fell on the duo.

“Rip her limb by limb…” the Rat King ordered, hunched. The lone Rat bandit stumbled forward, their body contorted and twitching. They paused, breathing heavily, tongue hanging out, drool falling in great quantity as their eyes bulged out, falling off, the empty sockets bleeding. The crowd recoiled, gasping and expressing a bit of disgust and awe. Cetus narrowed his eyes as Winona observed cautiously, surprised at the mutation of the serum.

“Holy shit…” Odie whispered, Perseus peeking by his shoulder, eyes wide. The Calypsos were taken by surprise, not expecting for this kind of body change. 

“I-Its… Its hot…” the bandit screeched out, scratching at their chest, pulling and tearing flesh, “HOT! HOT! HOT!” The empty eye sockets crystalized completely from the bandit’s own blood. 

You giggled, swaying back and forth in place. Rarely would the Jesters complain about feeling their bodies boiling inside, their skin turning to a darker shade of purple and cracks of eridium seeping through. 

“YES! YES! YES! COME ON! SHOW US WHAT YOU GOT!” you shouted, the little monster slowly taking control. 

This caught the Calypsos attention: Your demeanor was changing once again – for the worst.

“WE CAN’T DISAPPOINT!” you yelled, running towards the Rat bandit. 

“S-Shit, O-Odie, she’s lost it…!” Perseus shook Odie’s arm. 

“We can’t interfere, you know that…” Odie whispered harshly back, checking on Cetus. A tiny smirk was on the man’s lips, further infuriating the general. 

The Rat bandit tore more flesh from its chest, roaring as it lunged forward towards you. A well-timed fist hit you in the chest, throwing you back. Face-down, you didn’t move, the crowd gasping.

“THE GOD QUEEN’S PLAYTHING TAKES A HIT!” Mouthepice announced, the surveyors flying towards you. The crowd whispered amongst each other as the feed showed you unmoving from your spot.

Tyreen bit her thumb, worried. She had ordered Pip to double dose a Rat bandit to test out the limitations of the serum. Now, she was regretting that decision although it was a last-minute adjustment. Her Siren tattoos flared, Troy glanced at her. His own marks were glowing faintly. 

The bandit stumbled towards you, picking you up, using both hands to tighten their grip on you. Your head slumped forward. Tyreen immediately stood up, hands over her mouth. Troy had a panicked look as he took out his EchoNet device.

“B-Basil, shut this shit off-“

“GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” the bandit screeched, tossing you to the side. You landed on all fours, cackling. You held a broken electric wire from a nearby metal grate, using it to deter the mutated bandit. The crowd whooped, hollered in excitement.

“Holy fuck… she’s going to be the death of me…” Troy muttered, pulling his hair, “Fuck shit… I thought…”

“Shut up, Troy, don’t say it….!” Tyreen hissed out, sitting back down again. Cetus eyed them then back at you. She jumped when you screeched.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT, COME ON, DON’T TELL ME THAT’S ALL YOU GOT?!” you goaded the bandit, tearing at the electrical wire, coiling it around your wrist, electric sparks crackling in the air, “I DIDN’T EVEN FEEL THAT FUCKING HIT!”

“JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER!”

The bandit roared, pounding their chest, snarling. You and the bandit rushed forward against each other, you slid below, aiming at their stomach, punching them, delivering shocks. The mutated bandit grabbed you from the head, slamming you down as you wrapped your legs around their arm, using your weight to knock them aside. 

“SHE’S NOT LETTING THIS ONE GO! THE JAWBREAKER SHOWS NO FEAR!” Mouthpiece shouted, full of energy. 

Relying on sound and smell, the bandit managed to keep up with you, delivering several hits on you, further riling and exciting you. A kick landed on your legs, throwing you off balance as the bandit punched you on the shoulders, a sickening pop echoing. 

“OOOAH!” the crowd gasped, the Calypsos gritting their teeth. You only laughed, holding your dislocated shoulder, unfazed. 

“Nice, nice, NICE!” you shouted, grabbing your shoulder, twisting it to lock it back in place, “LET’S SEE IF YOU CAN DO THE SAME!” You popped your neck, then your knuckles.

“What a fucking monster….” Odie whispered, alarmed. Perseus gulped, eyeing Cetus from afar.

The Maliwan man’s expression hadn’t changed. Too calm. 

Way too calm.

“Shit… Even I felt that…” Troy shuddered, rubbing his own shoulder, “She’s gonna be fucking sore after this…”

Tyreen was glued on the action, nodding, “N-No kidding…” 

“JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER!” The crowd was more pumped than ever, enjoying the mayhem developing before them. You held your head with one hand, the ringing coming back, you vision got distorted for a brief second before stabilizing. 

“Ah shit..” you muttered, “Not now…”

LET ME OUT, the little monster screeched, I WANT TO PLAY, YOU ARE BEING UNFAIR.

A surveyor floated above you, Odie catching glimpse of your agitated self. Your fists clenching, tense shoulders, and ragged breathing were clear signs of you slipping away, the same way as in the warehouse. The general glanced at the Calypsos and then at Cetus. Troy and Tyreen didn’t seem to pick up on the signals, but Cetus kept tapping a finger on his arm rest.

Tap… Tap… Tap…

Is he waiting for something? Odie thought. 

Tap… Tap… Tap…

You tossed the live electrical wire aside, laughing, taunting the bandit, “I hope you are ready!” Grabbing an explosive barrel nearby, the bandit flung it at you. Using the chain, you managed to slap it out of the way, a small explosion throwing debris everywhere. A well-timed kick from your part sent a concrete slab towards the bandit who held their arms up for cover. This provided a decoy for you to land a punch on their stomach, causing them to stumble back, wheezing, knocking the air out of them. 

“THEY ARE GOING ALL OUT! WHAT BLOODSHED, WHAT MAYHEM! A TRULY SPECTACULAR FIGHT!” Mouthpiece yelled, the surveyors showcasing different angles, replays. 

Taking advantage of the bandit’s condition, you coiled a chain around on of their arms, jumping on their shoulders and throwing yourself off, pulling the chain with you. The bandit screeched, the sound of bone crushing transmitted via the surveyor, making the crowd go wild. 

“CRUSH! CRUSH! CRUSH!” the crowd chanted.

“Pull yourself together!” you laughed, tugging harder, unfazed that the bandit grabbed you with their free hand. Digistructing Helen’s ceremonial dagger, you stabbed it on their arm, twisting it, the bandit screaming louder in pain.

“NO MERCY FOR THIS RAT BASTARD!” Mouthpiece yelled, excited, “THE JAWBREAKER CONTINUES SPILLING BLOOD IN HONOR OF THE GOD QUEEN!”

“Ehehehe….” You giggled, pushing and twisting more the dagger, “I was going to tear this arm off, but now I want to see your bones and flesh… I want to FEEEEEL IT!” Although the bone was tough, you stomped on the bandit’s arm, crushing it, making quick work as blood splashed on you. 

The bandit flailed, the flesh around the massive gashes healing rapidly, causing intense pain. Delirious, you stuck a hand into the wound, pulling at the muscles and broken bone pieces, laughing. The Rat King stared at you as you descended more and more into madness, glancing up at the Calypsos and at Cetus.

Cetus was still tapping on his armrest.

Tap…. Tap… Tap….

What is he doing? The Rat King thought, finding Cetus’s action odd. 

“Oh my… its so soft…” you whispered, biting back a moan, “So soft…” The bandit, with both arms broken, attempted to get up on their feet in vain. 

“BREAK THE JAW! BREAK THE JAW! BREAK THE JAW!”

“THE CROWD WANTS TO SEE THE FINISHING MOVE! WILL THE JAWBREAKER INDULGE THE MASSES!?” Mouthpiece shouted, joining in the chant, “BREAK THE JAW! BREAK THE JAW!”

“BREAK THE JAW!” Tyreen yelled, whooping, “BREAK THE JAW!”

“TEAR THAT SHIT OFF! TEAR IT! TEAR IT TEAR IT!” Troy hollered, “BREAK THE JAW!” 

“Shit, even the Calypsos got sucked into the energy, huh?” Odie commented, somewhat amused, but keeping an eye on the Maliwan man. Throughout the fight, Cetus never participated in the chants, though he kept his gaze fixated on you. 

“Hahaha….” You took out the dagger from the bandit’s arm and stuck it in their mouth, prying it open, your fingers curling on the lower jaw. The popping noise got picked up by the surveyor, the crowd and the Calypsos erupting in a might roar, crazed. The ringing got louder and louder in your head as you stared in amazement at the bandit’s face.

Cheers, chants, all of it disappeared. You blinked, your hands bloody and holding the broken lower jaw of the bandit.

I don’t remember tearing it off, you thought, I… I….

It’s my turn to play, the little monster said. 

You turned to look at the Rat King, the psycho mask hiding your gleeful, diabolical expression.

Your body language: Relaxed. 

Tap… tap… tap…. Stop.

\-------000000000------

Tyreen was scolded and threatened by Troy after you were injured again when she tried to confront you of your reason behind the suicide attempt. She wanted to know despite her own mind screaming at her that she was aware of the reason. 

She was in denial. 

You slipped in and out, then stopped waking up, exhausted. Pip assured her that you were slowly recovering, it was only a matter of giving you space to rest. Tyreen wanted to stick around but Troy had been adamant about her presence, kicking her out of the room whenever he came around. 

She didn’t protest. Even if it was from a far, she’d keep watch, quietly. The rare times she was alone with you, she felt a bit at ease, holding your hand and healing you. The nightmares that haunted her of your screams robbed much needed sleep. 

“Please wake up…” Tyreen whispered, “Please…” She brushed your hair to the side, the nasty bruise from your fall taunting her. She began healing that injury as well. 

Her breathing hitched when she felt you squeeze her hand. She returned the gesture, making sure she didn’t grip too tight. 

“I…I need to tell you how I feel… I know you hate me….” Tyreen whispered, frowning, “I-I promise to make it better for you…”

No answer.

Even if you were awake, you’d probably not respond at all, only hiss or growl at her. Or throw a dirty look at her. 

Tyreen leaned forward, brushing her lips against yours, pulling back immediately. 

Cold.

She pressed two fingers against your lips, feeding you more energy. You squirmed, then calmed down. Tyreen made sure you were tucked in, fluffing your pillow, and adjusted your hair. Her hand remained on your cheek, her thumb rubbing circles on it. Footsteps outside the room snapped her out of her thoughts.

Pip entered, stopping in his tracks, “Tyreen…. You do remember Troy asking you to stay away, right?”

Tyreen stood erect, not looking at Pip, her hand on your cheek still, “I’m the motherfucking God Queen, he doesn’t command me.”

Her emotions did.

Pip didn’t kick her out that night, but would pass by to check in on her. In his final round, he paused at the doorway. Tyreen was laying next to you, her forehead pressed against your cheek, her Siren tattoos glowing brightly, her arm placed over your chest, fingers touching the large cut over your collarbone. 

Healing.

The medic general shook his head, leaving. 

Probably the only sleep she’ll get in a while, Pip thought. 

\---------000000000-------

Excitement, the rush of the fight, emotions were high for Tyreen, watching you. She had entered the arena with extreme worry and fear, both of those disappearing by the minute. Odie’s question still hanged on the back of her mind, but the longer she saw you, the more courage she was getting to talk to you after the fight. 

Agreeing to let you fight was a desperate move on her part to be seen in good graces for you, although Tyreen couldn’t rely wholly on that action. Your outburst outside the throne room showed your limit had been reached, leading for the God Queen to think frantically of ways to get you to stay. 

Troy, by his part, was nervous. He always thought he had the upper hand against Tyreen in regards to you, but he was equally hated as his sister. As he watched you fight, he was second-guessing himself if it was achievable to get some degree of forgiveness, considering you loathed Troy because of the treatment of the past playthings and Helen’s death. He had let go of his anger about Donovan, finally admitting to himself that he was partly to blame for the disgraced general’s actions against you. The tall Calypso wanted to start again, have a second chance. 

“ITS ONLY THE HERETIC THAT’S LEFT! WILL THE JAWBREAKER DESTROY THE RAT KING?!” Mouthpiece shouted, disrupting the Twin Gods’ thoughts. 

You hummed gleefully as you walked over to the Rat King who had refrained from assisting his underlings. The bandit lord sneered at your presence, grunting as he struggled to stand up.

“Escaped from one arena to another, you sure are one busy bitch… Same for being a bedwarmer to someone else…” the Rat King taunted. This irked the Calypsos. 

You only giggled, “Show me the mark.”

“You’re being stupi-“

“SHOW ME THE MARK!” you screeched, angry, startling the Rat King. The crowd looked at each other, gasping and questioning your request. 

“The mark of Trinity….” Troy hissed out, growling, “Why is she asking him that?”

“The Terror of the Waste asked her the same question,” Tyreen replied, looking at the Rat King.

Cetus glanced at the twins, clasping his hands together, resting them on his lap. Winona, nervous, was dreading if the Rat King said anything to the Calypsos in regards to Cetus and the organization, but now you were blurting about the mark.

“We do things the proper way, Rat King… Master dislikes disobedient people,” you said, your voice neutral, but detached, “Show me the mark etched on your skin… You know he’s watching us, right? We can’t disappoint him.” The bandit lord grew pale, glancing up at the Calypsos.

Master.

Cetus stared down at you and the Rat King.

“That fucker…” Troy growled out, his hands twitching.

“Troy, keep it together,” Tyreen hissed, “He is watching the Let’s Flay.”

Odie and Perseus were trying hard not to lose it there. You were spewing out information that the Calypsos didn’t know about or hopefully never did at the moment. How were they to explain that the man who had tormented the Twin Gods for months was sitting at arm’s length?

“THE MARK, RAT KING, SHOW IT SO WE CAN COMMENCE,” you shouted, hands twitching, “NEVER KEEP A LADY WAITING!” 

The Rat King, without a choice, did as commanded, pulling down on his armor, revealing the large upside-down triangle mark on his chest. You removed your black hoodie, parting your hair, revealing the mark as well. 

“Now, we bow at each other. We must be courteous to the audience, Rat King,” you said, extending both arms out, bowing, the Rat King mimicking your movements despite his current state. Everyone was confused by this sudden change.

“What the fuck is she doing, Perseus?” Odie whispered, not liking this mood change. The general’s gaze was still fixed on Cetus. The Maliwan remained neutral. 

“I-I have no idea either, this is the first time I see her act this way… normally she’ll be shouting about tearing people apart…” Perseus replied, recalling your fights with Odie and Donovan’s underlings. 

“Excellent, now I will proceed to tear you apart for addressing me in such vulgar language,” you said casually, “Master dislikes people using such foul words.”

“What- GAH!” A swift kick was delivered on the Rat King’s head, knocking him aside. He hadn’t been able to see you moving quickly, feeling a series of punches on his stomach. The crowd roared back to life, now focused on the new fight.

“THE JAWBREAKER DELIVERS THE FIRST MOVE!” Mouthpiece shouted, “THE RAT KING DOESN’T STAND A CHANCE!”

“I rather see her this way than talking like that… its unnerving,” Troy said, biting his lip.

“Y-Yeah… I prefer the insults…” Tyreen added, glancing at her EchoNet. No updates on the Unknown User.

The Rat King managed to block a punch, throwing you off as you skidded to the side before lunging back at him. He hissed, stepping back and readied with a knee hit, landing on your side. You cackled, rolling on the ground. 

“Three years…. Three fucking years…. That fucker kept getting on my case because of you!” the Rat King shouted, “I’m going to enjoy beating the shit out of you for the trouble you caused me…”

“Watch your language, Rat King,” you hissed out, still on the ground, “Master is watching…”

“We are dead men walking in these pits of Hell… and yet you worry about that fucker…” the Rat King taunted, walking up towards you, “That’s all you are, a fucking bitch that goes back to her Master! A fucking attack dog!” He grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up, “Reduced to this, exchanged a life of privilege for this dump…”

You giggled, “A life of privilege you say? You are the one who took me away from the Vipers… You are at fault for my creation.” The Rat King snarled, punching you on the face. The force threw you back again on the ground, the psycho mask absorbing the shock. You didn’t get up or fought back while the Rat King kept punching you on the ground, only laughing more and more.

“THE RAT KING IS PUMMELING THE JAWBREAKER?!” Mouthpiece announced, “IS THIS THE END FOR THE PLAYTHING?!”

“Get up… Get up….” Tyreen hissed out, “Come on, get up…!”

Troy caught himself biting his nails, anxious that you weren’t getting up, letting the Rat King beat you up. 

The Rat King delivered another punch, snarling, stepping back, “Still the same as before.. can’t even fight me… you ran away… fucking pathetic….” You laid on the ground, laughing.

“Are you done monologuing? Are you done taking out your three years of anger out?” you asked, giggling, rolling over and getting up as if nothing happened. The crowd gasped, amazed at your resilience. 

“Fucking shit, she brushed that off like nothing…” Odie shuddered, remembering you did the same thing back in the warehouse. Perseus gulped, watching you pop your body back in place from the punches.

“Still a fucking freak…” the Rat King hissed out, feeling the serum activating again in his system, “I bet your fucking smile behind that stupid mask…” He needed to act fast.

“Ehehe… I hope you are ready to feel my ten years of anger…. Starting from the day you took me away to the day I escaped…” you said, popping your knuckles, “Every punch and kick… are the days and months… years… taken from me….” 

When your freedom was taken away.

When your life was ruined.

\---------000000000-------

She fucking ruined it again. 

Tyreen was nursing her wounds after Troy fought her in the Harvest grounds, the first time he’s even had an upperhand on her. Once again blinded by jealousy, she tried to hurt someone close to you: Perseus. The mechanic had talked back to her, furthering angering Tyreen despite she provoked him. You attacked her to protect him. The wound across her face was the mark you left behind, one that she refused to fully heal.

To remind herself what she did. 

Troy, seeking revenge against her for what happened to his lovers and Helen, had dragged along Perseus, the source of her envy, to help out with your recovery. His comments, idiotic, pissed her off, filling her with rage over the prospect that you and Perseus were actually together in a relationship. She couldn’t stand watching the mechanic helping you regain mobility after the bedrest, seeing you laugh, joke around, and chat with him. 

Why – why – why – why –

Frustration, pure frustration that your mood and health got better with Perseus around. She had healed you, why didn’t you let her near her? She wanted to help. She really wanted to.

Why – why – why – why –

Tyreen couldn’t fathom the logic behind it. Troy had healed you as well and yet, you let him get close. You would even avoid looking at her, your lips trembling, your body shaking, remembering.

Remembering the beating. 

But you stared her down, Helen’s dagger in hand, snarling, willing to get injured to protect Perseus.

Why – why – why – why – 

She fucked up, that’s why. Her emotions controlled her. She took it out on you. 

It wasn’t your fault.

It wasn’t.

“Fuck… ugh…” Tyreen held her stomach, using the red vial Troy tossed her to heal. The warm glow of the vial was slowly going dim, the Siren Calypso using its entire energy for her deep injuries. The generals were waiting on her, Donovan glancing at her once in a while.

“Speak your mind, Donovan,” Tyreen growled, coughing, “My brother is pissed off at you as well.”

“I am well aware of that, my God Queen,” Donovan said, approaching her, “Father Troy… shouldn’t have done that to you.”

Tyreen sneered at him, blaming the general for the situation with Helen. The ex-priestess was long dead but her presence lingered even after death. Troy was on edge, you were extremely furious… and Donovan… 

She was sure Donovan’s conscious was clean of wrongdoing. That pissed her off. Aside from caving into Master’s taunts, she became an unwitting pawn for Donovan, lashing out at Helen when he showed Tyreen the surveillance feed of you and the ex-priestess meeting at the Cathedral. 

Donovan messed with the wrong person: the God Queen.

Eventually, she thought, she’d have her revenge against the general. 

And an opportunity came up.

After the CoV outposts were attacked by someone named P.K in retaliation for your injuries, morality was down for the cultists. Soon, you recovered enough to participate in a Let’s Flay much to Tyreen and Troy’s anguish. Eventually, you revealed information about your past with Master and the organization responsible for the attacks.

Trinity, an organization that worked behind-the-scenes with corporations and politicians, their side ventures including experiments and underground fight rings. 

However, the most surprising revelation was Trinity’s possession of a Vault – a much needed good news for Tyreen. Then, word reached her that someone within her inner circle had dealings with ‘Master,’ the person that kept mocking her and Troy about you. She saw red.

“Are you sure about this, Troy?” Tyreen asked, staring at the console, anger swelling up. Her brother was on edge, pissed off as well.

“Yes, Pip had it confirmed with Moksha and Basil with the EchoNet transmissions,” Troy replied, his voice laced with venom, “That fucker, fucking Donovan was conspiring with that FUCKING ASSHOLE!” Troy crushed one of the chairs, throwing it across the Surveillance Room. He snarled, body shaking. 

Donovan’s motive? To get rid of you.

Despite that you were Tyreen’s plaything. Despite that you belonged to Tyreen. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Tyreen hissed out, “I’m. Going. To. Fucking. Kill. Him… slowly… and painful…” Her Siren tattoos flared up, the energy in the room suffocating. Troy clenched his fists, “Not before I get to him first…”

The siblings that quarreled were now united under a cause.

Tyreen became fixated in getting rid of Donovan, blaming him for all the misery she was going through. He was exposed in front of the generals, select group of priests and mechanics, among them Perseus and Jackal. This was her attempt to be seen in a better light by the duo considering they were close to you.

She, like Troy, underestimated the extent of your planning, witnessing up close your sadism against Donovan. You practically toyed with the ex-general while torturing her and Troy. 

Click. You cocked the gun again. Click. No shots. Click. Donovan dragged himself further and further in vain. Click. Tyreen was begging you to stop.

Click.

Every time she’d hear that, her mind filled in the noise of a gunshot, your brains splattering everywhere. Red. Red. Red. Red like your blood that had stained her hands as she punched you. Red like her clothes that soaked your blood. 

Red like the color of the robes the priests would wear.

Like Jackal’s robes that appeared from the darkness of the boiler room.

Click. **BANG!**

Tyreen watched as Donovan’s head was pulverized by the exit wound once Jackal pulled the trigger. A beautiful spray of blood stained her and Troy, eyes wide as Jackal handed the Helenite gun to you. She couldn’t discern your expression, hiding behind Helen’s psycho mask. You were quiet throughout the exchange, your posture relaxed.

You were enjoying this, Tyreen could tell.

Memories of her adoptive mother, Pleione, flashed into her mind, the bandit lord executing traitors of the bandit clan with her pistol, in front of Troy and Tyreen, teaching them never to show mercy. A wonderful display of might, power, and authority; that’s how Pleione ruled part of the wastes. Although Tyreen had her differences with the woman, she admired her adoptive mother’s tenacity and strength. 

Was she seeing that in you? You weren’t like her previous plaything… weak or frail. You had survived Tyreen and came back stronger and ferocious than ever.

When she found out that Donovan’s head went missing from Pip’s morgue, she didn’t have to guess who took it. 

You.

Tyreen wasn’t a frequent visitor to the Cathedral’s courtyard, but her curiosity got the best of her when she saw a group of priests mingle near a statue of her and Troy, watching something in the distance. Upon closer inspection, she saw your handiwork.

Donovan’s head on a spike over, what she assumed, was a grave. Helen’s? You were busy cleaning the gravestone and checking the soil with a new batch of wildflowers. Tyreen’s gaze fell on a familiar set of flowers carefully sitting on the severed head, anchoring themselves to it.

The purple hyacinths.

She was falling in love all over again.

\-------0000000000-------

The fight went on after your bold statement, the Rat King and you going at it again, the crowd loving every single minute of it. They had no idea about the history between the two of you, only knowing that the drama was pushing their excitement up the roof with the extreme bloodshed unraveling before them. 

Ten years of anger. Ten years of hate. Ten years of your life lost because of a simple decision of few.

The Calypsos didn’t hold a grudge against the Rat King.

You did.

The Calypsos didn’t suffer at the hands of the Rat King.

You did.

The Calypsos didn’t deserve to fight against the Rat King.

You did.

“Master is watching,” you repeated, “He is watching us.”

Cetus was going to get a glimpse of what was waiting for him.

“We can’t disappoint him,” you said again, “We can’t disappoint him… We can’t disappoint him… We can’t disappoint him…”

Your body was aching, but the anger coursing through you was numbing the sensation.

“We can’t disappoint him…” you said, punching the Rat King on the stomach, “We can’t disappoint him…”

He punched you across the face, making you lose your balance. Using your hands, you flipped, delivering a kick on his face. With every punch and kick, you and the Rat King never let the other block or step away, keeping close distance. The bandit lord’s massive body size aided him in absorbing hits while your fit, small form allowed you to maneuver with ease around his attacks. Although the Rat King had witnessed you pulverizing what remained of his troop, he was slightly confident he had the advantage in the fight, thinking that the Calypsos were idiots for requesting that he be given mechanical arms to replace the ones they removed in the raid plus the injection of the serum and the existing substance in his body. 

That, and he was knowledgeable of your fighting styles from years and years of being your handler alongside Cetus. 

“You are still the same lunatic from before, nothing satiating your appetite for carnage!” the Rat King shouted, elbowing you. Wheezing, you choked, holding your stomach as the bandit lord landed another hit on your chest, knocking you back.

“If only you had behaved and let me had my way, none of this would be happening!” he snarled, backhanding you. You skidding backwards, landing a pile of debris. 

You grabbed a metal rod from the pile, tapping it on the ground, dragging it as you sped towards the Rat King again. He anticipated your move, slamming his fists down on the ground to prevent you from sliding between his legs. Using the rod, you struck it down, vaulting over the Rat King, landing behind him and swinging hard on the back of his knees. 

“THE JAWBREAKER IS FIGHTING BACK! GETTING UP AND DELIVERING THE PAIN!” Mouthpiece shouted, the surveyors having a hard time getting near without the risk of getting broken. 

“She’s taken more hits from him… what is she planning?” Troy whispered, perplexed.

“What do you mean?” Tyreen asked, managing to hear him.

“She’s been letting him land hits on her left and right, it’s on purpose…” Troy replied, “For what I’m not sure..”

Tyreen kept watching on as you kept hitting the Rat King with the metal rod, the bandit lord trying his best to block out vulnerable spots. You were indeed methodical, a fact known to the Calypsos, but unpredictable in the execution of your actions. It’s almost as if you derived pleasure from controlling the eventual fate of your victims, picking when you’d destroy them.

“JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER!”

“We can’t disappoint him…” you whispered, “We can’t disappoint him…” You digistructed chains on your hands and ankles, swinging one around. The Rat King’s eyes widen, then he snarled, bulking up in size. 

“A CHANGE OF PACE?! THE RAT KING IS PREPARING FOR SOMETHING?!” Mouthpiece commented.

Odie almost keeled over when he saw Cetus lean slightly forward, his nerves reaching a limit. Perseus tugged at his brother’s arm to make him snap out of it.

“She’s getting serious now…” Tyreen said, Troy nodding. 

The Rat King readied up, gasping when he felt a cut on his cheek. You held your chain nearby, blood coating it.

You landed a hit on him. 

The crowd whooped, chanting out your nickname. The ringing in your head was back again, the little monster gleeful. 

The Mad Queen was ready to pounce and tear into her victim.

“We can’t disappoint him…” you muttered, gripping tight the chain, “We can’t disappoint him…” In an instant, you were swinging at the Rat King, whipping and landing kicks and punches, overwhelming the bandit lord. Everyone was having a hard time following your movements. You were moving more fluidly, hitting soft spots on the bandit lord, splashes of blood flying everywhere.

“You fucking bitch!” the Rat King shouted, grabbing a chain and attempting to pull you in towards him. You broke the chain away, digistructing another one out, hitting and creating a large gash on his shoulder, causing him to scream out in pain. The serum’s healing factor couldn’t keep up with your attacks, hindering the Rat King even further.

“No fucking way…. Damn…” Pip said, patching through the twin’s EchoNet device, “Here I was hoping to see the serum effect on the Rat King, she’s not letting me…”

“Did you pick on something?” Troy asked, glancing at Tyreen.

“You haven’t noticed? The Rat King’s serum shot I gave him has worn off before he had an actual chance to use it,” Pip said, “The plaything drew out the fight long enough to get him to metabolize it! Damn, sneaky girl!” 

The Calypsos stared back at you, surprised. Was that your plan from the start? When you noticed the other bandits had been given the serum?

Cetus had a tiny smile on his lips, hands still clasped together, enjoying the fight. Despite leaving Trinity, you still had the same ferocity as before, relishing in the pain of others. Now, Cetus was watching you unleash your anger on the Rat King. He had planned for Brutus to kill the Rat King during the Calypsos’ raid but let it go after learning the twins’ intent in keeping the bandit lord alive. 

His little gift for you.

But also, the **perfect bait.**

You kept whipping at the Rat King, still claiming about ‘not disappointing him,’ growing more and more unhinged. Eventually, you snapped, laughing, your movements becoming more erratic. The psycho mask covered up your sadistic, bloodlust expression. Digistructing the daggers again, you scrapped the blade against each other, sparks flying as you rushed towards the Rat King, using the chains on your ankles to create an opening. 

The Rat King blocked the attacks, stumbling, weakened from your previous onslaught. Finding an opening, you stabbed the daggers on each of his sides, causing him to keel forward, gagging. You broke a chain, coiling it around his head and forcing his mouth open. Climbing on top of the Rat King, you tugged hard on the chains, laughing, then leaning forward, “What’s the matter, Rat King? You always said you wanted me to ride you, SO I AM NOW, BITCH!” 

“GYAH!” the Rat King gagged, struggling to get the chains off from around his head and mouth, “F-FUCKING WHORE!” You pressed your knee on his back, holding on tight to the chains as he attempted to throw you off. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy!” you snarled, your voice dropping to a malicious tone, “I think it’s time for me to show everyone… your sweet spot… Rat King….” This alarmed the bandit lord, struggling to glance back at you.

Your giggling struck terror in him.

He heard clicking.

“W-What the-!?” he coughed out, eyes widening as he saw the psycho mask’s lower half split open, revealing jagged, curved metal teeth along the edges of the flaps. You threw your head back, the jaws opening wider, glistening against the spotlight shining down into the fighting pit. 

**CRUNCH!**

“AAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!” the Rat King yelled as you sunk the metal teeth on the nape of his neck, the crowd erupting in a ruckus at this twist. 

“What the fuck?!” Troy shouted, getting up from his seat, “What the fuck!?”

“She had the mask modified?!” Tyreen asked, also getting up, shocked. 

Cetus let out a small chuckle, surprised as well. Winona had her mouth covered, not believing the scene before her.

“THE JAWBREAKER REVEALS A NEW WEAPON IN HER ARSENAL?!?! HOW SICK IS THAT?!” Mouthpiece commented, surprised and pumped, “AND SHE GOES FOR THE KILL!!!!”

“JAWBREAKER! JAWBREAKER!” the crowd whooped, “JAWBREAKER!”

You tore flesh out, digging further into the Rat King’s neck. With a burst of energy, the bandit lord barraged against a wall, trying to get you off. He was successful in his feat, tossing you away from him. You landed on all fours, your entire face and outfit drenched in blood, the metal teeth, jaws still hanging loose, flesh falling in chunks to the ground. 

Your giggling was unnerving to all. 

“Perseus… please tell me that wasn’t you…” Odie commented, covering his mouth, “This is…”

“She asked for the modification, Jackal gave her the okay to refashion Helen’s mask,” Perseus replied, “She said she was… ‘forced’ to wear a similar one when she was in Trinity…”

“What?” Odie glanced at his brother, “You left that out-“

“Its not something she likes to talk about…” Perseus added, “Or so she says…”

“You fucking bitch… YOU FUCKING BITCH!” the Rat King yelled, breathing hard, falling on his knees, “To think you have that shit back again…!” He was struggling to take off the chains you left coiled around his mouth and head. 

Your metal jaws clicked several times as you pulled out flesh stuck in the grooves. The distinct blue eyes of the psycho mask were glowing red, making it more eerie for those watching. You lunged again on the Rat King, biting and tearing flesh everywhere you could get to before he attempted to push you off. 

The Rat King was at his limit.

“SHE’S NOT LETTING HIM REST, SHE KEEPS GOING AND GOING!” Mouthpiece shouted, the surveyors replaying the feed. 

“FINISH HIM! FINISH HIM! FINISH HIM!” the crowd chanted, “FINISH HIM!”

“THE CROWD WANTS TO SEE THE END OF THE RAT KING! FINISH HIM!” Mouthpiece continued.

“I guess this is it huh…” Odie whispered, “She better do it quick…”

“Yeah…” Perseus agreed, worried about your behavior.

“FINISH HIM! FINISH HIM!”

“Finish him!” Tyreen shouted, joining the crowd, eagerly watching, “Show him what happens to those who mess with the Children of the Vault!”

“Pass judgment! FINISH HIM!” Troy yelled, “FINISH HIM!”

You laughed, running again towards the Rat King, kicking him back. The Rat King gagged as you punched him repeatedly on the face. This was it, you were finally going to get your revenge against the bandit lord while HE watched.

**We can’t disappoint him.**

**He is watching us.**

The Rat King’s teeth broke as he automatically bit down on the chain still in his mouth, blood spewing everywhere. You tugged at the chains with one hand, punching with the other.

“FINISH HIM! FINISH HIM! FINISH HIM!”

Cetus glanced at Odie, smiling, pressing at his sleeve with his thumb, a small remote appearing. Odie’s eyes widen, gaze locked on the Maliwan man, horrified. 

Tap… Tap… Tap… 

You bit into the Rat King’s neck, tearing the flesh, pulling at the chain. A surveyor got close, shrieking while avoiding splashes of blood, but giving everyone close view of the Rat King’s final moments. 

Tap… Tap… Tap…

The noise was back. You pulled away, noticing a small device on the Rat King’s neck. The screen, covered in blood but red words visible, held a message for you:

.:Unknown User: Smile, love. : )

.:Unknown User: 5…. 4…. 3… 2…. 1….

The surveyor displayed it for all to see. The Calypsos immediately went over the edge, eyes wide. Mouthpiece cut off the feed, the crowd gasping in horror. Perseus and Odie rushed forward, only to be blinded by intense light.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Troy shouted, “IT’S A BOM-“ The shockwave threw everyone back, those close in the ‘splash zone’ vaporizing from the suffocating heat. Fire and explosive barrels further intensified the bomb’s effect, the arena’s firewall breaking down.

The ringing noise was back. 

\-------0000000000-------

Donovan was dead. She expected things to get better, but it got worse. Tyreen didn’t seek you out, wishing to give you space after the event at the Harvest grounds. At times, it became unbearable, she wanted to talk to you in attempt to fix things. With the CoV getting ready to raid the Rat King’s base, she found no time.

The little time she found, she summoned Perseus. Much to the mechanic’s horror, she assumed.

“I’m sorry,” Tyreen said, “I’m sorry for trying to hurt you.” Rare glimpses of a remorseful God Queen? Perseus didn’t seem to buy it, but went along. With her pride in the line, she confessed to Perseus what she was in denial of for a long time:

She was in love with you. 

Tyreen begged Perseus for help. To have a chance to be your friend.

“Why should I?”

Why – why – why – why – why would he help Tyreen? Sure, his loyalty was to the CoV and in extension to her, but she almost tried to kill him right in front of you.

All because he was your friend.

“What’s her name?”

Tyreen didn’t know. 

“I…. I never asked,” she whispered, now looking at Perseus, “You know her name, don’t you?”

Perseus didn’t say anything, only leaving the drawing room with Jackal. He knew it. He wasn’t going to tell her. How did he manage? Was it simple enough to walk up to you and ask? Would you respond to her if she did that? 

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Tyreen whispered, alone in the drawing room, “How could I be so stupid?” She never asked her playthings for their names, only dishing out nicknames. Some of them would protest, others remained quiet in fear. Of course, they never lived long: dying by her hand, by Troy’s, sometimes by Helen’s doing, or in the arena.

Then Troy dropped on her that you were Master’s ex-lover. Someone else had had your attention before. Not only were you his fighter, but also lover. A deadly combination, an unfortunate one compared to Tyreen and you. 

Was that one of the reasons why you view her and Troy in a harsh light? Her nerves were driving her crazy. You had grown resentful of Master after he killed his wife and daughter, pushing you over the edge. You despised her for being a Siren; hating on Troy for Helen’s fate.

However, with Odie’s arrival, she felt part of a heavy weight lift off her shoulders. The general, who had a penchant for reading people a bit too well, told her that his little brother, Perseus, had no ‘romantic interest’ in you. Strictly platonic. 

It had taken someone else that wasn’t you, Perseus, or Troy to convince her. She mentally beat herself up after the admission. Troy had told her not to get jealous. You even told her he was only a friend.

Perseus himself had said it when he talked back at her in the courtyard.

And yet she had refused to listen. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she was scared. 

Scared of not being loved back. All bandits loved her, flocked to her, worshipped her… she had expected the same from you. 

Rejection over and over again. It wasn’t Perseus’s fault. It wasn’t Troy’s fault.

It wasn’t your fault.

It was her’s… all of Tyreen’s fault. 

/She’s my friend, I’m sorry if you misunderstood my actions, my God Queen./

A radiant star that shined too bright, blinding itself from the truth, finally going dim to see and accept it.

\---------00000000000000-----------

Tyreen took a deep breath, shaking, the ringing in her ears throwing her senses off. She felt a weight on her, arms wrapped around her protectively. She opened her eyes, seeing Troy’s jacket in the way.

“T-Troy?” she asked, voice quiet as she coughed. 

“I-I’m okay…” Troy replied, coughing, “Don’t inhale too much… there’s dust all over the place..”

“T-Troy… where is she?” Tyreen asked, scared, “I-It was a bomb…” She coughed, Troy getting up and helping her stand. 

Static feed sounded off in the speakers, Mouthpiece’s voice patching through, “We are having technical difficulties... everyone….” Those that survived in the crowd were slowly waking up, groaning in pain, looking around at the state of the arena. Basil immediately ran out by the side of the Calypsos, reaching for them.

“Fucking shit! Rat King was rigged with a fucking bomb?!” Basil shouted, Troy snarling at him.

“K-Keep your fucking voice down… our ears are fucking hurting…” Troy said, coughing.

“I-It must’ve been that asshole… it has to be…” Tyreen hissed out, “F-Fuck this smoke cloud.. I can’t see shi-“

“STEP DOWN!”

Odie’s voice. 

“S-Shit, that’s Odie!” Basil said, rushing forward, the Calypsos following him. They froze at the scene before them.

Winona and Odie were blocking you from reaching Cetus, the ceremonial daggers stuck between Winona’s katana and Odie’s hunter knife. The Maliwan man remained calm, still seated in his chair, a shield protecting him and his crew from the blast. You were giggling, your outfit smoldering from the fire, part of the fabric eaten away and burns were present on your skin. A chain was stuck around your waist, the end of it holding part of the Rat King’s head. 

“Step down, that’s an order!” Odie hissed out, struggling alongside Winona to keep you at bay. A surveyor chirped over, bringing a spotlight over, the LiveScream resuming. 

Before the Calypsos could interfere, you jumped away, laughing, raising your hands up, daggers still in your grip. The surveyor squeaked around you, lighting up the area with a spotlight.

“Ta-da!” you giggled, bowing at the surveyor, “Explosive end, am I right?” You waved at the surveyor, flashing victory signs at it, the bot loving the attention. Picking up the Rat King’s decapitated head, you shoved it at the bot, laughing.

“He’s dead! Thanks to everyone tuning in!” you said, too enthusiastic, “This kill is dedicated to all those following the Let’s Flays!” Odie approached you, furious, dragging you off to the side where Perseus rushed over, glancing at the Calypsos as he and Odie disappeared with you down the tunnels. 

Cetus was quiet, then turned over to the Calypsos, “Is this a common thing?”

“Uh… yeah… somewhat… It didn’t go… as planned…” Troy said, trying to save face in front of the corporate sponsor, “Good thing you had a shield huh?”

“Yes, Mr. Katagawa did inform me to carry one with me at all times,” Cetus mused, standing up, “Don’t be alarmed, I don’t see this as an attempt on my life or anything.”

“Pft, well, obviously Jawbreaker was trying to get a scare out of you! That’s all!” Tyreen said, a bit too fast, coughing from the dust cloud, “That’s just how she is! Scaring us all!” Frightening. 

“Uhh… we need someone to finish off the Let’s Flay…” Moksha radioed in.

“Have Mouthpiece finish it, we need to get this corporate guy out of here,” Troy said, stepping aside to answer her via the EchoNet device. 

Winona seemed agitated, digistructing her katana away, “Sir, I believe it’s time for us to leave…”

“Yes, Winona, I believe so too,” Cetus said, addressing once again Tyreen, “If you don’t mind, we’d like to take our leave, you have a handful right now with the current state of your arena. As per corporate procedures, I have to inform Mr. Katagawa about the situation. We are still in good terms, though.”

Tyreen let out a deep sigh she was holding, nodding, “Excellent, as stated before, we’ll be ready for the attack on Atlas.” 

“Yes,” Cetus said, giving her a curt nod, “Thank you again for your hospitality, wonderful experience this Let’s Flay you showed.”

“Basil, please escort them out of the arena and make sure no one bothers them,” Tyreen ordered. 

“Yes, my God Queen,” Basil bowed, passing by her and Troy, speaking to Cetus and Winona, “Please, follow me this way.” The Maliwan soldiers followed Cetus and Winona out of the arena, wary of their surroundings.

Troy whistled for armed cultists to show up, “Start cleaning up this damn mess, make sure that damn firewall isn’t leaking gas and shit. NOW!” The armed cultists shouted in confirmation, spreading out to assess the damages.

“How did she survive the explosion?” Troy asked, seeing the armed cultists pulling out bodies from the debris. Tyreen stared down at the ground where Cetus had been sitting, walking over and kneeling, picking up an item.

“Ty?” Troy approached her, “What did you find?”

Tyreen turned around, showing him a charred shield, “She had a shield… similar to mine.”

The same built and model, the one that had spared the Calypsos from the explosion during their first encounter with you. Troy grabbed it from Tyreen’s hands, inspecting it. The shield had taken the entire brunt of the attack, rendered useless, its circuitry fried. 

You were prepared for anything.

“Moksha… go through the LiveScream feed… get some images from that bomb in the Rat King’s neck,” Troy said on the EchoNet device.

“Yes, Father Troy,” Moksha replied, “We got several images and texts from the Unknown User as well from the chats.”

“Compile them all, we have to figure out what his motive was,” Troy said, putting his device away.

“I don’t understand, was he trying to kill her?” Tyreen asked, “He kept ranting on about he wanted her back… but now this…?”

“Beats me… maybe he left something cryptic in the chats.. either way, Rat King is dead…” Troy said, eyeing the decapitated head of the Rat King on the floor. The tall Calypso went over, lifting his boot up and stomping on it, “I’m satisfied with this…”

Tyreen watched him repeatedly stomp on it, hearing the sickening crush of bones and flesh, her hands twitching. The Rat King was dead, her powers wouldn’t work on extracting the last of his essence. She let Troy have his fun, knowing he was upset at relinquishing the fight to you. At least, she hoped, you’d be in a good mood to talk. 

Taking out her EchoNet device, she radioed in Odie, “Odie… are you with her right now..? I need to-“

“I’m a little busy right now- Eh, she’s getting checked up right now.. by Pip… Stay away from that! Ow!” Odie answered, grunting and shuffling heard in the background, “I-I’ll call you in a-“

His side cut off, Tyreen narrowing her eyes, but sighed. She’d have to wait a bit longer it seemed. She sent out a message to Jackal, instructing him on what to do next after you were done with the medical check-up. 

“Troy… Did you give some thought about what Odie said?” Tyreen asked, looking at her brother, “About… you know…”

“Yeah, you?” Troy asked back.

“A little…” Tyreen said, adjusting her jacket, “Just.. I guess we have to wait…”

Troy nodded, “Yeah…” 

Question was, who would do the first move?

\-------000000000--------

Pure disgust. Vile. Hate. Anger. 

Tyreen had a long list of emotions coursing through her as she stared down at the defeated Rat King. The raid had dragged on, her and Troy having close encounters, slight brushes with death while fighting the bandit lord and his clan, even dealing with a new guest from Trinity who had no interest in fighting them.

Fortunately.

That wasn’t the biggest surprise of the raid, but what awaited her and Troy in the serum storage room where her intense disgust was on full display. The Rat King had a shrine covered in photos all depicting you, some intimate, explicit; others where you were in company of someone whose face was scratched off entirely, in a luxurious place; and chained up in a dim light room, similar to the one the Calypsos found the creature in the Atlas stronghold.

“What the hell…” Tyreen muttered, eyeing the corpse chained up against the wall. It was obvious the corpse was serving another purpose rather than being a prop or decoration for the macabre shrine, the broken legs and ripped fabric of the dress proof the Rat King was reliving some fantasy.

With you. There was a photo of you wearing a similar dress.

“I think… I think I’m going to be sick…” Odie said, coughing, “Geez, I thought I had seen worse shit with psychos creating shrines for you and Troy, but this one takes the fucking cake…!”

Tyreen covered her mouth, disgusted. This was full blown obsession. She admitted she was infatuated with you, but she never once thought of going down this path. The thought freaked her out. Troy, by his part, made it clear how he felt about it. With a swift swing of his sword, he struck the shrine down, snarling, furious. Tyreen wasn’t surprised by her brother’s action, she would have done the same. 

Especially when the bandit lord began taunting Troy. 

“Did you at least had a chance to taste her skin? How she squirms underneath you?” the Rat King taunted Troy, her brother’s face contorting to anger before he punched the bandit lord. Tyreen had been intimate with you, the Rat King picking up on Troy’s annoyance as evidence he never did. 

“Shut… your… fucking… mouth!” Troy repeatedly punched the Rat King, a sadistic smile plastered on his face once he heard the bandit lord screech in pain. The Rat King’s screech turned to laughter.

“So.. the God Queen has been the one to touch her, eh?” the bandit lord said, cackling, his off-set teeth shown, “Feels nice… touching that soft, but rough skin of hers, right?”

Tyreen walked over to the Rat King, Troy beside her as she stared down at the heathen, face showing intense disgust, “Oh, I have. But you never got a chance to touch it either, eh?” A smirk reached Tyreen’s lips when the Rat King snarled at her, baring his teeth.

“You bitch….!” The Rat King hissed out, struggling against his restraints.

“The delicate feeling of her skin against mine… my lips touching her soft ones…” Tyreen grabbed roughly the bandit lord’s hair, yanking it up, chuckling, “Making her feel many things, having her scream in pleasure… my name…” She was overexaggerating, but seeing the Rat King grow more furious filled her with glee. 

“You stupid bitch-“ Troy punched the Rat King, Tyreen still grasping the bandit’s hair.

“And what about you? You never had a chance with her yet you boast of doing things to her… resorting to a corpse to get off your fucking fantasies.. you piece of shit…!” Tyreen dug her nails into the bandit’s scalp, hearing him hiss out in pain, “You fucking disgust me…!” 

Eventually, she ended up beating him up as well, knocking him out as he kept spewing out more information about you, her and Troy’s nerves already at the limit. The ride back to the hub was quiet, Tyreen’s head filled with questions that could only be answered by you. She wanted to know more about your connection with Trinity, what THEY actually did to you.

To what extent were you used for fights? How did you know about the Vaults? The serum? How were you able to repair Troy’s spine mod without having seen the complicated blueprints?

It didn’t help that Odie began pestering her and Troy to ‘talk’ to you to settle things, the general emphasizing the severity of the situation with the Rat King and Trinity. She was nervous, scared of further angering you. Now they awaited your presence in the throne room.

“So, you and the plaything, huh?” Odie observed, “You two would make a cute couple, aw.” Troy growled from his side of the room, glaring at his new right-hand man. Odie laughed, twirling on his chair. 

“….” Tyreen rubbed her hands, somewhat shy about it.

“Don’t worry Troy, you and the plaything would make an adorable couple as well,” Odie added, laughing when Troy glared at him. 

“Odie…” the tall Calypso muttered.

“What? I mean you are hella tall, she’s not too short, about the same height as Tyreen, close,” Odie continued, leaning back on his seat, “You are capable of lifting her up and all!”

“….Yeah….?” Troy confirmed, somewhat confused on Odie’s intent.

“You two are going to talk to her, right? This bullshit that you all have needs to stop. You two saw that shit the Rat King had in his stash room,” Odie said, a look of his disgust in his face, “Holy shit.. that’s creeper, obsession level… Ugh, just remembering…” The general visibly shuddered. It was a sentiment shared by the Calypsos. 

“I really, really want to burn that off my mind,” Troy muttered, disgusted as well, “Should have killed him, we didn’t need to drag him back.”

“We need to find out more about Trinity,” Tyreen said, hugging herself, “I’m gonna beat it out of him.”

“What’s taking Jackal so long? They should be here already,” Odie commented, getting up, “I’ll go meet them-“

“IT’S ALWAYS WHAT THE FUCK THEY WANT! ITS ALWAYS WHAT THE GOD QUEEN WANTS, ITS ALWAYS WHAT FATHER TROY WANTS! EVERYTHING IS ABOUT THEM!”

Odie’s eyes widen, the Calypsos shocked by the shouting. 

You were the one yelling on the other side of the doors.

They could hear Perseus and Jackal calling out to you, followed by items being thrown around and breaking. Troy immediately darted to the door, followed by Tyreen. Once they opened the door, they saw Perseus and Jackal standing there, spooked and immediately bowing to them. The twins observed the hallway, furniture and several statues scattered on the floor. On the wall, where the conquered bandit flags were pinned, one of them was missing.

The Skullmashers.

Your old bandit clan.

“Well, then, I guess we know what she thinks about you two,” Odie said, approaching the duo, glancing at his little brother and Jackal, “Perseus, Jackal, go after her. I’m afraid she might pick someone as a punching bag.”

“Right, as if I need you to tell me what to do…” Perseus muttered, glaring at the Calypsos, shoving the paper with the Vault coordinates into Tyreen’s hands, immediately walking away followed by Jackal.

“Pft, damn… he is pissed!” Odie whistled. Tyreen watched Perseus and Jackal leave and then down at the paper.

Your writing.

The one thing she and Troy had been extremely aggressive about with you during the talks with the generals and the serum experiments. 

“What now…?” Troy asked, lost.

Tyreen wasn’t sure.

Both had further ruined their chances with you.

\-------000000000---------

Basil stopped in his tracks upon seeing Odie waving at him, “Odie?” The Maliwan envoy plus Cetus and Winona paused behind Basil.

“Leaving already?” Odie asked, smiling. Basil nodded, “Yes, God Queen Tyreen asked me to escort them out.”

“I’ll take over, if you don’t mind, I’m sure the arena needs to get thoroughly checked out,” Odie said, flashing a thumbs up at Basil. The general sighed, shrugging, “Suit yourself, just don’t make any weird small talk with them. Mr. Cetus, general Odysseus will escort you out.”

“Fine by us, see to your post,” Cetus said, watching Basil bow at them, leaving back to the arena. Odie extended his arm out, “This way please.”

The group resumed their walk, Odie talking on the way, “Please accept my apologies for the Jawbreaker’s behavior, she tends to get a bit rowdy in the arena.”

Winona eyed Odie, picking up subtle tones of anger in the man’s voice. Her hand gently laid on her digistuctor, ready to strike.

Cetus immediately looked back at her, narrowing his eyes. The woman gulped, gazing down, removing her hand, leaving her guard down. She panicked when she picked up on a scent from afar. 

“Leaving so soon?”

The group heard Odie curse under his breath as he extended his arm out to stop everyone from moving forward. Perseus was behind you, a pleading look on his face. The mechanic was grabbing your arm, trying to hold you back. You no longer had Helen’s mask on, your expression neutral although you had a smile. There were visible bandages on the burns you got from the explosion.

“You were ordered to remain in the medical room,” Odie said, growling.

“I’m only here to say my goodbyes to the corporate sponsor, sir,” you replied, stepping forward, “Just to make sure I didn’t give him a fright…” Your smile got wider. The Maliwan soldiers raised their guns, aiming at you.

“Please put your weapons down,” Cetus ordered, reaching to put his hand on Odie’s arm, “It’s fine, Mr. Odysseus.” He felt Odie tense under his touch. The soldiers lowered their weapons. You took this as an invitation to approach him.

“Well? All good? I know how important this corporate alliance is to the Children of the Vault,” you said. Cetus chuckled, reaching into his pocket. Odie and Perseus kept watch, Winona as well. The Maliwan man took out a handkerchief, cleaning a smidge of blood on your face. 

“All good, miss. Rest assured the Maliwan corporation is still keeping their end of the bargain with the CoV,” Cetus said, pulling away, “I enjoyed your performance today, might tune in for more if time permits from work.” You got a good glimpse of his ring.

He got a look at yours as well, the one Perseus gave you. 

“Good to hear! I won’t keep you long, please have a pleasant night,” you said, bowing at him, stepping aside, smiling. Odie sighed, ushering the group down past you and Perseus. Cetus smirked, walking away but tensing up with your last words.

“Say hello to your wife and daughter for me, please.”

Fuck! Odie thought, she’s so gonna get a good scolding…!

The Maliwan man smiled, “Will do.” Winona glanced back at you, sorrow in her eyes. You stared at her, expression void of emotion. Any friend of your enemy, was your enemy as well.

“Come on, Andromeda… Jackal is waiting for you…” Perseus whispered, grabbing your hand, “D-Don’t say anything else…” You patted his hand, allowing him to drag you away. He pushed you back into the medical room, Pip and Jackal chatting.

“So, cause another headache for Odie?” Pip asked, putting out his cigarette, “Ugh, he’s gonna scold me for not knocking you out.”

“I was courteous, right Perseus?” you grinned at Perseus, the man groaning in frustration. 

“You’re lucky I like you, otherwise I would have applied terrible ointment on those burns,” Pip said, laughing and smacking his knee, “Should have seen the look on the Twin Gods’ face when you were about to cut that man down.”

“I wasn’t doing anything… all part of the show,” you added, chuckling. Perseus shook his head, looking at Jackal. 

“You said you weren’t doing anything reckless and you did…” Jackal said, getting after you, “But it seems you are in good spirits either way, I have a message for you.”

“Message? From whom?” you asked.

“Pft, you know who,” Pip mused, taking out another cigarette, “The God Queen herself, you put on a good show that she herself was going gaga over you.”

Tyreen.

Even after screaming your anger out when summoned, she still sought you out?

“Ugh… what does she want?” you asked, rubbing your face. Cetus’s lingering touch was present, heavy in your mind. 

“She wants to talk to you… at her private garden, says its important,” Jackal stated, walking towards the door.

“Pft, of course its important, anything surrounding her is important…” you hissed out, rubbing your neck, “Fine, let’s get it over with. If I hold this off, she’ll just bother me directly. Not like I had to survive a fucking explosion a few minutes ago.”

“About that… where the fuck did that come from?” Pip asked, taking a drag out of his cigarette. You paused before leaving with Jackal, looking back at Pip and Perseus, “Oh, that? I was ordered to place that on the Rat King ages ago.”

“You what-?” Pip stood up, adjusting his glasses, “H-Hey!”

“Sorry gotta go!” you waved at them, quickly exiting the room. Perseus looked at Pip, “Yeah, you’re not getting any answers at the moment…” Another thing to add to the long list of questions for the medical general. 

\--------0000000000---------

“Let her go, let her leave this place.”

Odie’s words struck a chord in Tyreen. The Siren Calypso knew it had the same effect on Troy. The general’s usual giddy tone was replaced by a quiet, forceful one, showing the seriousness of the situation. He had returned to the Calypsos and the rest of the generals in a bloody state.

He had gotten into a fist fight with you. 

The last time the Calypsos or anyone had seen that was during the time of the ambushes, those ceasing with the deaths of Helen and Donovan. Tyreen glanced at Troy, seeing his conflicted expression. She looked away, nervous. 

/ITS ALWAYS WHAT THEY WANT./

Tyreen bit her lip, clasping her hands together. You were, indeed, afraid of her. She reminded you of your ex-lover. The same person that started this mess in the first place with the taunts and cryptic messages. Aside from learning about your brother being killed by a Siren, her own actions soured any positive interactions. 

She was fully aware of that. Despite Odie’s suggestion, she didn’t want you leaving. Selfish.

/ITS ALWAYS WHAT THEY WANT./

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish.

Tyreen was selfish.

Everyone flocked to her, worshipped her, died for her. She was the God Queen. 

…..

She never cared for her other playthings.

Selfish.

She never got attached to them.

Selfish.

…..

**It was lonely at the top.**

Selfish.

You didn’t care for her.

Selfish.

You never got attached to her.

But she loved you. Was she willing to put everything in the line to get you to stay? 

“…I don’t know about you, but I already made my decision, Troy,” Tyreen said, looking forward, hearing activity beyond the throne room’s heavy doors. Odie raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused. Troy looked at her, lips thin. For once, the God Queen would face her fears.

\--------00000000000---------

“Eh, I owe Perseus one for this,” you mused.

“You owe us all one, kiddo,” Jackal said, leading you out of the arena and into the main complex, “Who knows how many were killed today in the arena aside from the Rat bandits.”

“Not my fault on that,” you snorted, walking side by side with Jackal, “Wasn’t expecting for Cetus to try to blow me up.”

“Any reason for that?” Jackal opened the gates into the Harvest grounds, allowing you passage.

“Dunno, maybe he did it for shits and giggles? Unless…” your mind wandered off, maybe the man had expected the Calypsos to fight the Rat King as was the initial plan. Then again, how would he know about it? 

“We’re here,” Jackal announced, pausing in front of a vine covered wall. Confused, you pointed at the wall. 

“Um, here?” you asked, looking around, “There’s no entrance here…”

“This is the entrance to the garden, but only the God Queen can open it,” Jackal said, gently tapping on the wall. A protrusion on the wall revealed itself, Jackal twisting it open, gesturing for you to enter. You took a quick peek inside, amazed at the flora.

“She’s inside here,” you commented, entering. Jackal grabbed your hand.

“What is it?” you asked, seeing his worried look. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Jackal said, frowning, “You’ll be alone in there with her… there’s no telling what she’ll do…” The priest had seen you close to death in your own bed. You gave him a reassuring smile, patting his hand.

“I’ll be okay, as bad as it sounds, if anything does happen to me… well, you know…” you left the thought hanging, Jackal knowing about Trinity’s threat over the CoV. Any harm falls on you and everyone dies. 

“Alright…” Jackal briefly paused before hugging you, “Don’t get wild as always.” You hugged the man back, enjoying the comfort.

“I’ll try not to,” you chuckled, parting away from him, “I’ll see you later, okay?” Jackal nodded, bowing, watching you disappear into the garden, the wall closing up behind you. As you ventured further in, the massive number of flowers astounded you, taking your breath away. 

It reminded you of your little garden back in a distant life many years ago. Your hands helping keep something alive instead of killing, a little piece of mind – 

“Y-You’re here.”

You turned around, your gaze locked with Tyreen’s icy blue eyes. She was standing in the middle of an open area in the garden, hands behind her back, wearing her usual clothing. Despite the grandeur regal look, her posture screamed of extreme nervousness. You cautiously approached her, keeping your distance. 

“You summoned me,” you pointed out, “Not that I had a choice.” You didn’t. Tyreen frowned at your response, but held her head up high.

“Well, it’s been a while… since we’ve spoken…” Tyreen started, choosing her words carefully, “Uh, face-to-face…” She was losing her cool under your intense gaze. The God Queen was second-guessing herself, feeling bold earlier in asking for you to come see her for a talk.

Maybe I should have waited… Tyreen thought.

“Yes, it has been,” you flatly replied. You weren’t making this easy for Tyreen.

“…Great fight tonight! You really outdid yourself… gave me and Troy a few scares…” Tyreen continued, giving you a small smile, “B-But I knew you’d win! Y-You always do…” She fidgeted with her gloves, a speck of blush on her cheeks. 

“….” You were scrutinizing her. 

“Even facing dangerous opponents…” Tyreen was freaking out, her mind going blank, “A-As for the bomb, that wasn’t from me!”

“I know,” you answered, eye twitching. 

“….” The God Queen gulped, “I-I just wanted to make that clear…. I-I…”

“Is that why you summoned me? To clear up any misunderstandings about the bomb?” you asked, irritated. Tyreen shook her head, getting agitated. 

“…I.. I wanted to.. talk to you, about certain things…” Tyreen continued, looking down at the ground, the grass underneath her boots slowly shriveling up. She kept repeating to herself to remain calm. 

You raised an eyebrow, giving her a questioning look. Tyreen gulped, her throat dry, “I… There’s been a lot going on.. between us… since you first got here and all… I thought maybe.. we can talk it out, settle some… some things…”

You remained quiet, listening to her.

Tyreen nervously looked at you then away several times, “I-I’ve been a horrible person to you… that I admit. What I did to you.. I truly.. deeply regretted it..” She was not used to this, apologizing to someone else. Was she doing it correctly? Was she using the right words?

She looked at you for cues, only growing more nervous as your eyes narrowed at her. 

“I-I’m sorry…. I’m sorry,” Tyreen said, pleading, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” She approached you but stopped when you flinched back, “P-Please forgive me…”

You were furious, clenching your fists, “You? Sorry? Give me a fucking break! Cut your stupid act, you’re worse than Troy!” Tyreen recoiled from your outburst, desperate. 

“I am, I am sorry!” Tyreen begged, “I am sorry, every night, I have nightmares, haunting me… I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t have hurt you! I was an idiot!” Her voice cracked.

“Oh, I bet you are…” you hissed out, “I bet you are fucking sorry… What about the others?”

“T-The others..?” Tyreen asked, unsure but afraid.

“The other playthings,” you said, voice laced with anger. 

The weaklings. The ones she never wept over. 

“….” Tyreen looked away, whispering, “What about them….?” This further infuriated you.

“Were you fucking sorry for killing them?! Were you fucking sorry for using them as punching bags as well?!” you shouted, shaking a bit. Every other night, your beating would replay over and over again in your dreams. The God Queen froze, now looking at you. Tears were falling free on your face of pure anger. 

“I…” Tyreen held her head, “…”

You wiped your tears, taking a deep breath, “I’m the only one alive, aren’t I? Your only plaything still kicking for now… Helen told me what you and Troy would do to the playthings.”

Helen.

Tyreen had been cruel to the woman, the priestess’ influence over you still present after death. Troy never told Tyreen what Helen revealed to you about the twins’ actions. 

“I’m not sorry about the other playthings…” Tyreen confessed. She wasn’t. They weren’t worthy of her time the moment they displayed any signs of being frail and weak.

You snorted, “Did you at least know their names? What they looked like? Anything from them?” Tyreen stared at you, wondering what you gained from any answers.

“…I don’t remember anything about them…” Tyreen answered, her chest feeling heavy. Tears were threatening to fall on her end. She hugged herself, still staring at you, nervous. Why were you asking about the other playthings?

“What a fucking mess…” you hissed out, rubbing your eyes. You hadn’t expected to lash out immediately at her but the emotions had been bottled up for a long time. You were done being her chew toy, “Fucking waste of time coming over here, I have better things to do.” Turning on your heel, you made your way back to the exit, hoping Jackal was still there. You didn’t want to listen to Tyreen’s ramblings.

The damage was done. The Rat King was dead, you had other plans that didn’t involve the CoV – or Troy and Tyreen.

The God Queen panicked, mind scrambling to find words.

“But I do remember one!” she said, grabbing your attention. You stopped in your tracks, glancing back at her.

“…You do?” you asked, not buying it. Tyreen only nodded, looking down, gulping.

“Yes..” she continued, “I don’t know her name… but I remember her…” 

“….” You waited for her to continue.

“She was full of energy, I could say she was stubborn as well,” Tyreen described, her voice shaky, “When she first arrived, she was defiant, headstrong… I admit I somewhat liked that, but then I disliked it… but that’s what set her apart from the others… She didn’t care she was dealing with a Siren… she never dished out compliments… I felt she treated me… normal… I… like that.. being seen normal… ”

You blinked, trying to soak in the information. Tyreen got near you, still talking, “She was ferocious, calculating in the arena… unhinged, dominant, never backing down no matter the challenge, proud of her victories…. The more I saw of it, the more I became enamored…”

You stared at her, the plaything’s identity crystal clear.

**She was talking about you.**

Tyreen grabbed your hands as you froze in place, “But she wasn’t like that all the time, outside of the arena, she was methodical, I would watch her as she worked at the warehouse… the intense focus, the concentration… Those brief moments where she immersed herself in her projects… with such care… Her hands… able to take life away in the arena but breath in life into objects at the warehouse….” The same hands Tyreen adored, yearning for their touch on her. 

You remained quiet, stunned, but freaked out when Tyreen knelt down on both knees, still holding your hands. She noticed the ring on your finger, ignoring it at the moment.

“W-What are you doing?!” you growled out, unable to pull away.

“I ruined it with her, I ruined it with that plaything… My jealousy got the better of me… I hurt those closest to her… I wanted her attention, I wanted for her to know I love her… Every time I would see her smile and laugh with someone else and all I got were glares and snarls, it wound me… I didn’t know how to react, I took it out on her instead of making amends… blaming her when it was my fault…” Tyreen looked up at you, begging, “It’s my fault she hates me…” 

“…” you wanted to yell at her to stay away but your mind refrained from the action.

“I want to make things better with her, I want to make up for the horrible things I’ve done to her… I.. I… I want to be given another chance,” Tyreen continued.

“…Why should I?” you spat out, “You don’t seem me as an equal.”

Just a toy. 

A broken toy.

“…You’re right… I don’t see you as an equal…” Tyreen whispered, further upsetting you. 

“You-!”

“You’re above me,” Tyreen said, a determined look on her face, “You’ve always been… When I had tried to take you down… you got further and further away from me… Unattainable… I always thought I was aiming down on you when in reality I couldn’t reach high enough… I’m lowly… Below you…”

“….” You didn’t know what to say, her full-on confession getting the best of you. 

“I-I know you hate me… I can’t change that… but please… let me be by your side… Please let me worship you!” Tyreen begged, kissing your hands, “Please let me be close to you…”

/ As long as you let me worship you... that’s enough for me…/

Your eyes widen when Tyreen finished talking. 

/As long as you let me be close to you, that’s enough for me.../

Circe. 

The woman who loved you despite your heart answering to someone else. The woman that, no matter what, never let go of her love for you.

Worshipping you.

Your mentor in Trinity. 

You stared down at Tyreen, her face shifting to Circe’s, who smiled back. The woman provided you comfort during troublesome times in your life with Cetus. You managed to pull a hand away, caressing Tyreen’s cheek, the God Queen leaning into the touch, looking at you with hope. 

/As long as you let me worship you... that’s enough for me…/

Tyreen is not Circe, the little monster angrily spat out, she’ll never be Circe! She will never ever! Don’t do you dare compare her to my beloved Circe!

Tyreen had hurt you in many ways. Why give her the easy way out? You wanted her to suffer. The little monster screeched, wanting to spill the Siren’s blood, wanting to know what color it was. You pushed the little monster’s suggestions away, a small smile appearing on your lips.

Maybe… 

**Maybe you could use her against Trinity… Tyreen was desperate for your affection and attention… A small price to pay, right?**

Have the CoV and Trinity destroy each other…

Yes, yes, the little monster thought, user her… just like she used us….

“…You want to worship me?” you asked, careful with your tone, your finger tracing the scar you left on Tyreen’s nose bridge. The God Queen shuddered, watching you expectantly.

“Yes…” Tyreen responded, out of breath as your finger tilted her head up more by the chin, a delicate touch. 

“…Fine, I’ll indulge you,” you said, seeing her face lit up but turn confused on your next words, “Under one condition…”

“Condition?” Tyreen asked, wondering what it could be. You were her plaything, just about anything in the hub could be yours if you asked – for the exception of freedom. 

You gave her a warm smile, the little monster screaming in your head.

_**“If I grow bored of you, I’ll kill you.”** _

Tyreen let out a small gasp, shocked at your terms. It was no empty threat; the God Queen was very familiar with what you were capable of. 

You survived an explosion unscathed, the Rat King, and serum-boosted bandits.

You had survived her powers and, technically, you never fought back seriously. Troy, the first time he met you, was having problems and may have lost if Tyreen didn’t interfere back at the Skullmashers camp.

Your smile never faltered, feeling Tyreen’s grip on your hand grow weak. 

“Heh, you? Kill me?” Tyreen asked, her voice hinting amusement.

“Yeah,” you replied, equally cheerful, “That’s my condition. If you refuse, well, then, I suppose I go back to perpetually hating you forever until I die or escape, whatever comes first.” You weren’t hiding your intentions anymore. At this point, you were taking chances at dealing with Cetus out in the wastes. The Rat King was dead, no one else in Promethea would be able to chase you around.

Not even the CoV.

/Offer her something that she can’t refuse, she’ll stay, begrudgingly, but she’ll stay…/ Odie’s words rang in Tyreen’s head. His deduction of your plans for escaping were alarming. 

Tyreen chuckled, then laughed. Your demeanor didn’t change, your smile present. Inside, though, you were livid. You had expected that reaction, not believing a word of her nonsense confession. Tyreen, a Siren, in love with you? Absolutely pathetic. Crying to you about how she screwed up, putting you on a pedestal and saying she was beneath you? You believed the woman was self-absorbed and narcissist, always wanting to be the center of attention, throwing a tantrum because you refused to bend your knee to her unlike the other bandits. 

At least you gave her credit for a ‘wonderful’ performance unlike Troy who tried using waterworks to get your pity.

Tyreen stood up, laughing, but holding your hand. Her laughter was irritating you as you pondered on slapping her to shut her up. The Siren Calypso giggled, looking at you, her cheeks blushing as she grinned. 

“If it means I get to be by your side, to hear you laugh, to see you smile…. I accept your condition,” Tyreen said, kissing your hand, “I want to be worthy of you…” 

…

Did she…

Did she accept your outrageous condition?

“….I want to be worthy of knowing your name as well,” Tyreen added, smiling. You pulled away, stepping back.

“What makes you think you are worthy of that?” you hissed out. 

“I should know my killer’s name at least, no?” the God Queen mused, “That way I can curse you with my last breath as you plunge Helen’s dagger into my chest.” She grabbed your hand, placing it on her chest, smirking, “Weapon of choice, right?”

Clever response, the little monster said, give it to her.

You huffed, surprised at the little monster’s request, “Andromeda.”

Tyreen blinked, your name registering in her mind, “….Andromeda?”

“Yes, that’s my name,” you replied, annoyed, “Happy?” Tyreen’s expression baffled you as she smiled. Happy? She was ecstatic, overjoyed. A name that Tyreen was sure only few knew was uttered to her now. 

“Andromeda… I accept your condition… if you allow me to be with you,” Tyreen stated, struggling to contain her excitement, her hands clasped over yours. 

Tired, you nodded. Tyreen looked at you, nervous.

“….Andromeda… may I kiss you?” Tyreen asked. 

“Only on the cheek,” you replied, irritated, not wanting to give her any freebies. This satisfied her as she leaned forward, planting a kiss on your cheek, pulling back. 

“…May I hug you?” 

She was really getting on your nerves. You didn’t say anything, only extending your arms out, the God Queen accepting the invitation. She embraced you, her arms wrapping around your waist, her head resting on your shoulder.

Warmth. Tyreen had been yearning for this. A sense of comfort. 

“Andromeda… I-“ You let out a small yelp as you fell backwards, Tyreen landing on you. Panicking, you found your legs tied up. Tyreen hissed out, trying to get off you. 

“W-What the hell?!” you shouted, seeing vines wrapped around your and Tyreen’s legs, “W-What is going on?!” Your senses were on overdrive, fear creeping up thinking this was part of Tyreen’s plan.

“I-I can explain! Damnit, knock it off!” Tyreen shouted the last part to someone else, tugging at the vines, “F-Fuck, what did you do?!”

“W-What?” you asked, confused on who she was addressing. There was no one else in the garden as far as you were concerned, but shrieked when you saw the vines pull away at Tyreen’s command. 

“Did that vine move!? AH!” you scrambled away, a red carnation smacking you on the face.

“STOP IT!” Tyreen shouted, “ENOUGH! You’re scaring her!” Your senses picked up on the rustling of the garden, small bushes of flowers shook as if giggling. A thick green vine emerged from the earth, plucking a red carnation from a nearby plot, flinging it at you. Catching the flower, you looked around, overwhelmed.

“….The garden is alive…?” you asked, holding the two red carnations in your hands. The flowers danced in contentment, further freaking you out. This was too much for a night after dealing with the Rat King and Cetus. 

“Yes… These are not ordinary flowers… eh, ordinary garden…” Tyreen confessed, smacking nosy, smaller vines away from her, “…They are mischievous…” A vine patted Tyreen on the head, before forming a heart shape. 

“I… I don’t know what to say…” you admitted, yelping when a vine tapped you on the shoulder. It presented you with a daisy flower, which you reluctantly grabbed, surprised.

“They like you,” Tyreen said, shyly looking at you, “The purple hyacinths I gave you… they came from this garden.”

“Huh… that explains the weird staring I felt at the hut…” you whispered, then glared at Tyreen, “…Did they spy on me for you?!”

Tyreen immediately shook her head, hands up in defense, “N-No! T-They are nothing like that, I just… I just cultivate them… This is my sanctuary.. Hardly anything grows here in the wastes.. but I managed to grow these plants and trees…”

Sanctuary?

Her little place away from others. Her little place away from the ‘God Queen’ persona. You and Blue had a special garden in one of Cetus’s estates, taking care of all kinds of flowers and trees, seeing life grow from the earth. The girl would make flower crowns, distributing them to you, Circe, Cetus, and the workers in the estate. Gazing at the carnations and daisy, you saw the same care from the purple hyacinths on them. 

“You grew these…?” you asked, softly, touching the delicate petals of the flowers.

Tyreen nodded, rubbing her arm, “Yeah… I’ve been growing and taking care of this garden for a few years already…”

“Really…” you whispered, your comment a bit difficult to discern in tone. Tyreen wondered if it was sarcastic, but the look on your face was genuine curiosity. 

“D-Do you want to look around?” Tyreen asked, approaching you, “I-I can you show the rest of the garden…” Nervous, Tyreen held her hand out, hoping you’d accept. After the confrontation and the death threat, the God Queen’s mind was all over the place. She had accepted your outrageous condition but wondered how serious you were. Her mind was eased when you grabbed her hand.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. Tyreen grinned at you, gently tugging your arm to a direction off the side. She interlocked her fingers with yours, excitement filling her up. The flowers that had disturbed your meeting with Tyreen high-fived each other, giggling. 

The flowers always looked out for Tyreen.

All she needed was a little push to turn over a new leaf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :’D I hope ya’ll weren’t expecting some ‘uwu’ from either the Reader or Tyreen cause this aint that type of fic! AHAHAHAHAHA. Anywho, as stated before the chapter, Chapter 8 was split into two parts due to the overwhelming SIZE of it, I reached 70K and I felt it’d be easier for everyone to read like this. 
> 
> I know I promised cuddles and kisses, but unfortunately that happens on the later part of Chapter 8, in this case, ‘Part 2.’ 
> 
> Kudos and comments feed this tiny gremlin! :DDDD


	9. The Plaything (Part 2 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate people make stupid decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recap Note: Chapter 8 was originally written as a massive single chapter, but after giving much thought to it and asking peeps in Tumblr, I decided to split it. It contains a lot of info, so I think it will work as to not overwhelm the readers. 
> 
> This is the second part of Chapter 8. 
> 
> Not beta read, only sat on by my chonky cat.
> 
> CW: extreme violence, mentions of suicide attempt, suicide idealization, character deaths, psychological and emotional abuse
> 
> NOTE: This is heavy with past Troy/OCs

\------000000000------

_Kill them all, kill them all, kill them all_

Aggressive were the voices pounding non-stop in your mind, a heavy weight suffocating your lungs, your breathing slightly labored. 

_You can’t disappoint him, you can’t disappoint him, you can’t disappoint him_

A piercing pain shot through you, the ringing noise coming back as you stared ahead, your vision blurry. The only thing keeping you grounded, at least partially aware of reality, was the gear ring given to you by Perseus, your fingers expertly fidgeting with the contraption. 

“Hey, plaything.”

_Kill them all, kill them all, kill them all_

You could feel his gentle touch on your cheek as he cleaned the dry blood. It was a common ritual after your fights in Trinity. Cetus. The man you once loved, now abhorred. You wanted to rip your cheek off, tear at the flesh, watching your blood beautifully color the ground he stood on, scream at him –

_Kill them all, kill them all, kill them_

“Plaything…”

Paint his world red. 

_Kill them all until you see red…_

“PLAYTHING!”

“W-Wha?” you jolted in place, hissing in pain as you accidently pinched your finger. A hand was resting on your shoulder, a gentle squeeze placed. You glanced up, meeting Moksha’s gaze.

“O-Oh… I- Prophet Moksha.. .I…” you stuttered, staring down at your workbench with strewn gun parts. Two days had passed since the arena fight, two days since you and Tyreen ‘talked’ in her garden. Pip, the next day, had given you clearance to return to work, to your excitement and relief.

“Zoning out on me again? I know its been a while since you were taken off-duty, but I need you to be focused on your task,” Moksha scolded you, shaking her head, “These Maliwan parts needs to be assembled ASAP, plus, I don’t want the Twin Gods after me if you get injured.”

Twin Gods.

**The Calypsos.**

You hadn’t seen Tyreen since that night either, wondering if she got spooked by your bold taunt. At least she wasn’t clinging to you as you feared initially, and no surprises at your hut either. Fortunately, you weren’t summoned by her, Troy, or any other general for that matter in regards to the Vault of Power or the arena fight. 

“I-I apologize, won’t happen again…” you mumbled, resuming your work. Moksha sighed, patting you on the shoulder before departing the area to scold other mechanics who were slacking off. Glancing back, your sight fell on the empty workbench of Perseus. Your friend had been missing the entire day, Odie picking him up and leaving the warehouse with him. 

“I hope he’s alright…” you whispered, easily assembling the Maliwan guns. The structure of the guns was embedded deep into your mind, years in Trinity having you come across the vast Maliwan arsenal for the organization’s private army. Inspecting a gun component, you could deduce these new parts weren’t common, but the rare kind.

Corporate sponsorship.

“If only they knew…” you said, starting a new assembly, “If only they knew….”

_We can’t disappoint him…_

“If only they knew what?”

You blinked, checking out the entrance of the warehouse. Tyreen smiled, stepping inside the building. Surprised by her appearance, Moksha quickly approached your work area. 

“My God Queen, here to inspect our work?” Moksha inquired, noticing Tyreen’s attention on you, “Or…?”

“Ah, not today,” the Siren Calypso said, chuckling, “Mind if I take my plaything for the day?” You quietly watched them both, getting up from your seat. Moksha shrugged.

“No problem, she does need a bit of air, hehe,” Moksa joked, poking your arm. You pouted, making your way over to Tyreen. The God Queen grinned, gesturing for you to follow her. The general curiously observed Tyreen’s and your body language, pinpointing a dramatic change. 

At ease.

“Huh… that’s weird…” Moksha said, crossing her arms, “Since when does the plaything act relaxed with the God Queen?”

\---------0000000000---------

Troy had been a shy boy, always hiding behind Tyreen, not knowing that eventually, her own shadow would completely engulf him as an adult. She was Siren, bandits always flocked to her. At first, he didn’t mind, not liking being the center of attention. It helped that he didn’t have to worry about his actions at times since all eyes were directed to Tyreen, her actions scrutinized more. 

However, when you have been on the sidelines for too long, sometimes… you crave attention. Troy worked and crafted the persona of the God Queen for Tyreen, utilizing her charm to draw in more bandits to their fledgling bandit clan turned cult: the Children of the Vault. Eventually, he gained a title for himself: ‘Father’ Troy, playing into the aspect as the one who passed judgment for Tyreen.

Her second-in-command, the leader of the priests composed of psychos who were more willing to die for him and Tyreen. Troy relished the attention garnered from the new role he played, being more ‘in the crowd’ compared to his sister who was worshipped from a far, many fearing to ‘taint’ her godly image. That’s how she wanted it either way - as far as Troy was concerned. 

Troy wasn’t exactly a ‘friendly’ person to get close to, but was generally more approachable than Tyreen. Even though he displayed that ‘aura,’ majority of the time he would get annoyed at how fake cultists were in praising him. His own Siren tattoos, or what he believed were, never attracted attention like the tell-tale blue signs of Tyreen’s. Even as he stared at himself in the mirror every morning, covering it up or having inked tattoos placed on his skin, those marks would always remain there. 

“What the fuck am I?” Troy asked himself.

No response from his reflection.

He never claimed to be a Siren, only knowledgeable that Sirens were female. No one questioned the red marks, at least directly to him, and it stayed that way. Perhaps some thought it was his attempt to emulate the ‘God Queen.’

Until he met someone who voiced their opinion on it.

“Those are some sick tats, Father Troy.”

Troy looked up from his bandit technical, servicing it in the warehouse of the sprawling CoV hub. The tall Calypso blinked, meeting a green, playful gaze. The man before him, who he had seen several times around Basil, grinned down at him. He had the average build of a bandit, nothing special in the eyes of Troy. 

“Mikhail, was it?” Troy asked, wiping his hands of grease on a towel.

“Yes, Father Troy,” Mikhail grin got bigger, “General Basil sent me over to assist you in surveying the outposts by the west side of the wastes.” 

“Right,” Troy got up, Mikhail realizing the true height of the Calypso. 

“Oh..” Mikhail voiced, “Wow.”

“What?” Troy said, half threatening, half joking. He ventured over to his workbench, grabbing his keys and tossing them over at Mikhail who caught them.

“Oh, I apologize, Father Troy,” Mikhail bowed, “I never got to see those face tattoos of yours before, um, up close.” 

“Huh, well, those that do, always end up dead, if you catch my drift,” Troy teased, getting inside his technical on the passenger seat. Mikhail got in the driver’s seat, starting up the vehicle.

“Heh, I bet they do, see something awesome like that, their last vision before Death takes them,” Mikhail commented, speeding off from the warehouse. Troy raised an eyebrow at the man’s comment, chuckling. Judging by the man’s body posture, Mikhail wasn’t frightened by Troy. Throughout their trip to the outpost, Mikhail chatted away, Troy listening, amused. 

There was something about the man that stroked Troy’s interest, perhaps it was his genuine behavior around the Calypso. It was refreshing, so to speak. As Troy checked out the outpost, Mikhail followed him around, speaking his mind out about certain upgrades or suggestions for the outpost’s defenses or vehicles. Others would have kept their mouth shut, afraid to speak out of line with Troy.

“Man, don’t you ever get tired of talking?” Troy asked, snorting but entertained. 

Mikhail shrugged, “Not really…? It would get boring just being quiet.”

“Hm, well, depends on the situation,” Troy answered, “Like dealing with a scary looking God-King!” Mikhail gave him a perplexed look, tilting his head.

“I’m talking about me,” Troy pointed out. Was Mikhail dense?

“Oh, I know, but you are not scary looking,” Mikhail said, earning a playful glare from Troy.

“Care to elaborate?” Troy asked, pausing before his technical.

“’Scary’ is tame, I’d say frightening, I mean, with your jaw mod you got and all,” Mikhail tapped his own jaw. 

“Pft, alright, nice save,” Troy laughed, getting into the passenger’s seat, “You live to see another day, Mikhail.”

“Awesome,” Mikhail followed along, laughing, staring the engine. Troy glanced at the man on the way back, curious. Mikhail seemed to understand where to stop in pushing his comments, but was never anxious of being around Troy. It struck him as odd, though, he found it funnier. The man made small talk, asking Troy if his body mods still hurt, who tattooed him, among other things. The tall Calypso felt compelled to respond, honestly, to his questions. 

“What about you Mikhail, have any sins to confess?” Troy asked to kill time.

“Hm, there was this one time I ate my ex-bandit leader’s ration of cookies. He never caught me, some poor fellow got axed because of it,” Mikhail replied, snorting.

“Most heinous sin I’ve heard in my life, truly terrible,” Troy joked, laughing, smacking the side of the technical, “Do you wish to be saved from perpetual Hell?”

“Yes, Father Troy. I fear that I won’t be able to rest in peace,” the man replied in a serious tone.

“You are absolved of your sins, my child. Now, you may go forth and create more mayhem in the name of the God Queen,” Troy recited, chuckling.

“Thank you, Father Troy. My life has once again been brought back to the righteous path,” Mikhail followed, snickering, “I shall slay many to satisfy the God Queen.” Both Troy and Mikhail busted out laughing, wheezing, their stomachs and cheeks hurting. It had been ages since the Calypso had a good laugh that didn’t involve killing someone. They joked all the way back to the hub, the man bidding Troy goodbye as he went about his business after arriving to the CoV stronghold.

Troy didn’t think much about Mikhail after parting ways, but the more the days went by, the harder it was to shake the man out of his mind. The few times the Calypso went by the arena, he’d see Mikhail alongside Basil, other times working in the arena pit, or up in the stage area with Mouthpiece. 

A bright grin was always on the man’s face. 

“You’re staring,” Basil said, not looking up from his remote-control console.

“What?” Troy blinked, turning his attention to the general.

“Nothing,” Basil coughed, walking away from the Calypso. Troy furrowed his eyebrows, was he getting that obvious? Eventually, Troy would wander around the arena, waiting for an opportunity to bump into Mikhail, his chance arriving.

“Ah, greetings, Father Troy, here to inspect the final finishes on the spectator area?” Mikhail asked, grinning. Troy stared at the man, fixated, then startled, “Uh, yeah… I’m here… to inspect…” Mikhail got quiet, glanced away and then back at him.

“You’re not here to inspect… are you?” the man asked, a mischievous smile replacing the grin. Troy snorted, patting his mechanical arm, “M-Maybe?”

Mikhail chuckled, lips thin as he pondered for a bit, “I’m up for a new drinking buddy.” An invitation? Troy smirked, liking the man’s playfulness.

“Same. Later?” Troy teased.

“Sure,” Mikhail replied, walking away, “Don’t be late.” And he wasn’t, Troy showing up at the bar, everyone steering clear from him, meeting up with Mikhail. The night was uneventful, but enjoyable for the Calypso, getting to know better the man, poking fun at each other, and having a good time. Short and sweet were the hangouts, Troy inviting Mikhail to the Harvest grounds for more ‘private’ meetings. 

He grew comfortable.

What started out as a brief infatuation turned to a passionate affair between the two. Troy hoped no one suspected anything strange with his random appearances in the arena, Harvest grounds, and even the warehouse, following Mikhail around. Things got heated and serious, the Calypso and Mikhail becoming an ‘item.’ Sure, Troy had slept with others to satisfy his sexual urges, but with his lover, he swore loyalty to the man. 

It had changed the Calypso.

“Hey, Mikhail,” Troy said, smirking at the man, “Want to see my face tattoos up close?” He approached the man, placing his mechanical hand on Mikhail’s hip, tugging at his pants. 

Mikhail laughed, grinning, “I thought those that saw them up close always end up dead.”

Ah, so he did remember.

Troy leaned forward, “Well, I’m gonna show you a non-lethal way…” His lips touched Mikhail’s, deepening the kiss, the man reciprocating. It wasn’t rough but tender, each of them taking their time undressing the other, devolving to desperation to feel each other’s skin. They didn’t make it to Troy’s bed, the moans and gasps sounding off on the floor, Troy’s marks glowing brightly in the dark, Mikhail’s hands caressing his face, tracing them. 

Seeing them up close.

Throughout the night, Troy memorized Mikhail’s body, inhaling his scent, worshipping the man. In return, the man showered the Calypso with comfort, a sense of wholeness, and being his confidante. Troy felt more alive than ever, having something for himself, not given to him by Tyreen. Mikhail became his support pillar during the times he couldn’t handle being ‘Father Troy,’ just simply being Troy. 

He didn’t have to put up a front with Mikhail, leaving himself vulnerable. His lover, by his part, managed to reform him, giving him a sense of peace. 

Despite Troy’s affections for the man, their relationship was hidden – for the safety of Mikhail. Although Troy was the ‘Father’ and the God Queen’s brother, there was no guarantee revealing to the world about his lover would garner support or acceptance. Troy belonged to the cultists, no matter how approachable he was, his image could not be, for lack of better word, tarnished. Tyreen never took anyone as a lover and she expected the same for her brother. 

Always about her.

Never about Troy.

At times, Troy and Mikhail’s attempts to meet each other proved to be stressful, but they managed to stay together. Basil, Mikhail’s superior, found out about them when he accidently walked in on Troy hugging the man, promptly swore not to tell anyone. The tall Calypso didn’t need to threaten the general, Basil more preoccupied in keeping maintenance on the outposts and arena than whatever Troy’s business was. The other generals found out as well, keeping their mouths shut as to not anger the Calypso. 

“Promise me that you won’t leave me,” Troy whispered, hugging Mikhail tight. The gesture was returned. Neatly placed on Mikhail’s jacket was a pin Troy made: A skull with snake skin marks.

“I’m always devoted to you, Troy,” Mikhail said, “No matter what.” Troy couldn’t shake away the foreboding feeling. 

A broken promise. 

All Troy wanted was something to call his own.

\-------0000000----------

His mechanical arm could no longer wait to be serviced, the capsule mods had begun to corrode the wirings and rods, causing friction and pain to the Calypso. The last person to service it was you, but Troy didn’t want to bother you considering you were upset at him. He went about his day dealing with the pain, putting off the meetings with the generals regarding the new material sent by Master from the last Let’s Flay. Odie ‘ordered’ him to rest and he’d get in contact with you to get Troy’s mechanical arm fixed. And with that settled, Troy worked up his mental courage when that time occurred.

He was finally going to talk to you, set things straight. 

Returning to his living quarters, not once did he see or received messages from Tyreen. She had been quiet the past two days, leaving early in the morning from their living quarters. Not bothered, he’d figure she was in her little garden, her hideaway area when she didn’t want to deal with any personal issues. 

“Haha, I beat you!” 

Troy froze, hiding behind one of the pillars of the second floor that wrapped around the courtyard in the main living quarters, peeking over the railing. Tyreen was slightly crouching, her hands resting on her knees as she caught her breath. She pushed her hair out of the way, standing erect, looking behind her.

“You said if I beat you to here, I’d get a little kiss!” Tyreen whined. 

_What?_

Troy’s eyes widen as he saw you enter the courtyard, giving Tyreen a bored look. 

“I made no such comment or agreement,” you said, your tone hinting amusement. Tyreen gasped, resting a hand on her chest, then laughed before approaching you. She tilted her head, giving you access to her cheek. You rolled your eyes before putting a quick peck on it, snorting as she clapped in excitement. Troy gulped, trying to make sense of things. It was only three days ago you were pissed off at him and Tyreen and now you were letting her near you? Of all people?

Tyreen.

She had disappeared after the arena fight without a word. 

….

**She talked to you first.**

“Troy…?”

He looked down, staring at Tyreen who called him out. She was holding your hand, an unreadable expression on your face as you stared back at him as well. 

Troy didn’t say anything, quickly leaving.

Always living in Tyreen’s shadow.

\------00000000-------

Troy thought he had everything.

A cult that worshipped him, a lover who supported him, and ever-growing influence over the masses. His relationship with Mikhail had survived several bumps on the road, both feeling invincible.

But all good things come to an end. 

It wasn’t long before Tyreen got wind of Troy’s relationship with Mikhail. Despite his own status as a Twin God, the God Queen was the top dog in the CoV. She was the one holding the power – the Siren that the Children of the Vault followed. Her own ferocity was known through the wastes. Troy was soon slapped across the face with how powerless he actually was. 

“W-What are you doing Tyreen?!” Troy shouted, watching as priests grabbed Mikhail, “Let him go!” Mikhail was visibly scared, glancing between Tyreen and Troy. 

Tyreen glared at Troy, irritated, “You are putting everything we worked for in jeopardy because of this bedwarmer?! Someone finds out about him and they’ll use him against US!”

“He’s not a bedwarmer!” Troy barked out, snarling, “LET. HIM. GO!” He stepped forward but paused, gasping. Tyreen held her Siren arm out, tattoos glowing, directing it at Mikhail. The man froze, staring at the blood orbs forming in front of him.

“T-Tyreen…!” Troy gulped, throat dry.

“This man is leaving. You two are not to have any contact whatsoever, do I make myself clear?” Tyreen hissed out, extremely furious. She then turned to the priests, “Get that bedwarmer out of my sight!”

“Yes, my God Queen!”

Mikhail was quiet during the exchange, throwing a pleading look at Troy as he was dragged out from the throne room. Troy tried running after them before being blocked by Badass Psychos and Tyreen.

“What did I say, Troy?” Tyreen leered at him, “Back off!” Troy snarled, clenching his fists.

“You fucking bi-“ Troy cut himself off, glaring down at his sister. Tyreen merely stared back, unwavering before shoving past him and heading towards her throne. The Badass Psychos were blocking the exit where the priests left with Mikhail. Troy took a deep breath, storming off, tears threatening to fall. 

Tyreen didn’t bother sparing a glance at her brother. 

Her shadow growing bigger and bigger.

\-------0000000000----------

He didn’t leave his room for the remainder of the day, shutting himself off for the night, ignoring the pain on his shoulder from his mechanical arm. Troy was unable to process what he saw. It was almost déjà vu, seeing you ‘comply’ with Tyreen’s request, dealing with her insufferable attitude during your early days in the CoV. He ignored the pings on his EchoNet device, wanting to avoid any contact with Tyreen. He hadn’t expected for his sister to immediately seek you out – worse, for you to warm up to her instantly.

“What the fuck…” Troy said, gritting his teeth. He currently laid on his bed, slapping it in frustration with his human hand. He wanted to scream, even cry.

It was unfair.

All this time, his lovers taken away from him. 

Killed.

He had yearned to have something for himself and yet Tyreen managed to one-up him. The tightness on his chest was unbearable coupled with the pain on his shoulder. Troy had to get out of here, afraid of lashing out. He picked up his EchoNet device, several messages waiting to be read. Few were from Tyreen, those he promptly deleted.

He opened the message sent by Odie, hoping for some good news at least.

.:Troy’s Bitch: Yo, the plaything is busy.  
.:Troy’s Bitch: I went to go look for her, but Moksha said she stepped out with Tyreen. Perseus can service your arm. 

Troy checked the timestamp, the message had been received few hours early than your arrival to the living quarters. He quickly typed a message back, requesting Perseus’s help.

.:T.Calypso: Yeah, ask Perseus. I need this fixed ASAP.  
.:Troy’s Bitch: Sure thing, boss. ;D

He groaned but chuckled at Odie’s response. Donovan was a stiff bastard, keeping his responses short.

“Good riddance,” Troy muttered, sitting up, hissing at the sharp pain traveling his spine.

Ping!

He checked his device, receiving the confirmation from Odie that Perseus was available at the warehouse for tune-up and service job. Relieved, Troy made his way out, hoping that he didn’t bump into Tyreen and you. 

A headache was forming. 

Luckily for him, he didn’t see anybody, slipping out and making his way to the warehouse. In the olden days, he’d be doing the exact same thing, but to pester you late at night. You were no longer there working on odd projects, most likely still in Tyreen’s company. As per Odie’s message, Perseus was the only mechanic around, the man putting items away in the far back of the warehouse.

“Perseus,” Troy said, getting the mechanic’s attention.

“Hello, Father Troy,” Perseus bowed, straining to keep a neutral face, “My brother said you needed your arm checked and serviced?”

Despite his size, Perseus was radiating anger. To whom? Troy wished it was directed to you.

“Yeah, that capsule shit you guys came up with has wrecked my arm and I’m going through a bitch of pain right now,” Troy explained, approaching the man. Perseus gestured to a makeshift reclining chair, tools ready on the workbench. 

“There was no time to test out its effects, but there shouldn’t be much damage to the skeleton of the mechanical arm,” Perseus informed, watching Troy lay down on the chair, extending his mechanical arm out. 

“I tried removing it, but it hurts…” Troy confessed, sighing, “I leave it in your hands.”

Not on yours.

“Yes, Father Troy,” Perseus went on to get the final pieces, bringing over new metal rods, hooks, and wires. Troy raised an eyebrow at the massive amount of material.

“….Were you expecting me?” the Calypso asked. Perseus paused, biting his lip before putting his items down on the workbench.

“….She was,” Perseus whispered, putting on his leather gloves, “…And she was waiting on you to contact her to fix it…”

Bullshit, Troy thought.

The Calypso only growled, looking away, angry. Perseus began breaking apart his mechanical arm, keeping to himself. Troy eyed an empty metal can nearby, grabbing it and tossing it angrily at the wall. He wanted to scream at you for being an idiot, for allowing Tyreen near you after what she had done to you.

“Why would she go with Tyreen?!” Troy asked, growling, “She almost fucking died because of my stupid sister!”

Perseus paused his work, glancing at Troy. The tall Calypso was extremely agitated and angry. The mechanic had knowledge of Troy’s conversations with you, though, he refrained from making a comment, instead letting the man vent out. 

“I don’t fucking understand… Tyreen must have threatened her because she got fed up, yeah. That’s probably it, right?” Troy said, looking at Perseus. 

“I can’t say for sure, Father Troy,” Perseus replied, feeling the heat, “I haven’t spoken to the God Queen’s plaything since the arena fight.” Partially true.

“Pft, right, I thought you two were together or something,” Troy kept going, pissed off, “Your brother said you didn’t have the hots for her!” Perseus pinched a wire, causing Troy to hiss out in pain, “HEY!”

“She and I are friends… something everyone keeps forgetting, Father Troy,” Perseus replied, annoyed, “Just because I’m a guy, doesn’t mean I want to fuck her.” Troy laughed, smacking his own leg. 

“Man, you’re a funny guy unlike your brother,” Troy said, chuckling, “But I call bullshit, I see the way you look at her. I’ve been there buddy, you have a thing for her.”

“And what if I do? What are you doing to do about it?” Perseus asked, expression neutral as he set down his instruments, “Are you going to send someone to kill me?”

Troy growled.

Jackal must have disclosed what Troy would do with his competition.

“I care for her, unlike someone who wants to take out their anger on me because their sibling went on ahead and try to make amends with their source of infatuation,” Perseus said, resuming his work, “Never their fault, always someone else’s.” Troy laid back on the work bench, sighing. 

“You sound like fucking Odie, but more bluntly,” Troy complained, looking at his human arm with the Siren marks, “At least you’re not getting on my nerves like your brother.”

“That’s his talent, not mine,” Perseus half-joked, removing rusted wires and gears from Troy’s mechanical arm, “My talent is offering support.”

“Support? Aren’t you pissed off Tyreen is now all up on the plaything’s space?” Troy asked, calmer, “You barked at her when Tyreen tried to hurt you!”

“I am upset, because I worry about my friend’s safety,” Perseus replied, pouring cleaning solution into the grooves and compartments, “But I’m not lashing out, she’s an adult, she can make her own decisions.” Careless decisions.

“Stupid decisions!” Troy shouted, getting angry again. Perseus shook his head, worrying more about the service job. The Calypso kept rambling about you and Tyreen, pissed off. The mechanic half tuned him out, annoyed. 

Perseus reached his limit.

“You’re jealous,” the mechanic stated, flatly. Troy snarled, turning to look at him.

“What did you say?!” Troy barked out, yelping, forgetting his arm was torn apart at the moment, “That’s Tyreen’s thing!”

“Doesn’t seem like it anymore,” Perseus added, a low blow at the riled Calypso. 

“….Just shut up and finish the job,” Troy hissed out, ignoring Perseus.

“Yes, sir,” he said, concentrating on his work.

That’s not me, Troy thought.

…

Was it?

\-------0000000000----------

Word reached him that Mikhail was sent off to an outpost far away from the hub, no contact was permitted. Even Basil was threatened from exchanging messages between the two men. Troy slumped down in his seat, staring at the wall. Behind him, his room was trashed, bearing the traces of his anger. With the CoV, he managed to find cultists willing to be his punching bags – in some vain attempt to get his attention.

Never worked. 

He couldn’t sleep in the same bed he shared with Mikhail, memories of the man still vivid. If only others would know what transpired in these walls, they’d certainly not look at Troy in the eye afterwards. 

“So much for being a God…” Troy muttered, slumping further down his seat, “Can’t even command some fucking respect from my own sister…”

Tyreen.

Everyone flocking to her. 

Her shadow growing longer and longer over Troy.

Devouring his happiness.

\------000000000-------

Troy avoided his sister and you the next several days. He kept coming back to the warehouse for the complete tune-up of his arm, requesting Odie and Moksha to kick you out so Perseus could finish the job. They didn’t relay a message on your part or chose not to, Troy caring less. A painstaking week passed by and he was back with a functional arm, the Calypso thanking Perseus.

Exhausted, all in his mind was to rest and shut everyone off.

“Perseus did a good job with the arm.”

He paused on his tracks, scared. Troy glanced up, having been staring at the ground as he walked, breathing heavily. You were holding a bouquet of flowers, observing him. The flowers. Troy narrowed his eyes, irritated. 

Tyreen’s little gift.

He averted his gaze, resuming his walk and shoving past you. He was angry, furious. Tyreen had hurt you and all of a sudden you were letting her near you?

“Troy.”

Keep walking.

“Troy!”

Keep walking. He heard footsteps gaining up on him. 

“TROY!”

Troy turned around, pissed off, clenching his fists, “What the fuck do you want?! Leave me alone!” You stepped back, shocked. He threw you a dirty look while fixing his jacket.

/You’re jealous./

“…You dropped this…” you held out a small wallet, extending your hand out with the item. Troy eyed the item, grabbing it roughly out of your hand. He quickly opened it, making sure the pins were still there.

All four were accounted for. 

He stuffed it in his pocket, hoping you wouldn’t ask about the pins if you had seen them. 

“You should have Prophet Pip look at the scars by the metal clasps… the corrosive material can wear out the rubber-“ you weren’t able finish, Troy storming off. 

You didn’t call out for him.

\-----00000000------

A broken heart never had a true cure, but it could easily be amended if time provided. Unfortunately, that was something Troy didn’t have. His mood worsened, especially around Tyreen, never forgiving his sister for taking Mikhail away from him. Days turned to weeks, Troy swallowed the harsh pill of truth that he would never see Mikhail again. He even started to convince himself the man was dead. 

Tyreen had been the one to send him away, surely, she would have given the order to get rid of the man for ‘safety’ purposes. Part of him wanted to shake down a priest for answers.

“Mikhail?” a priestess asked, “What about him?”

“Come on, Helen,” Troy said, “Tell me where he’s at, it’s been months already, Tyreen wouldn’t remember him by now.”

Helen pondered, shaking her head, “I don’t know where he is… if its worth anything, at least he’s here in Promethea.” The priestess resumed her duties at the Cathedral, fixing the altar, Troy following her around. 

“Pft, same answer as your old man,” Troy growled in frustration, “It’s not like I’m going to go to the outpost…” Partly a lie.

The priestess sighed, looking at Troy, “Look, Troy, I’ve known you for quite a while… If I tell you, you’re going to go seek him out… Tyreen will find out and it will end up worse for you and Mikhail.” Helen had been another person privy of Troy’s relationship. The priestess was Jackal’s daughter, the man who saved his life as a kid. The Calypso was acquainted with her during the last days of El Capitan’s life, one of the first members of the Children of the Vault.

“….Just let him go, Troy,” Helen whispered, “He’s better off without the looming threat of the God Queen.” Troy didn’t respond, only turning around and leaving the Cathedral. He bumped into someone, hissing at them.

“Watch where you are going- Tyreen?” Troy stepped aside, watching Tyreen rub her face from the impact.

“Ugh, YOU watch where you’re going,” Tyreen said, huffing, “What’s with the rush?”

“None of your business…” Troy shoved past her, Tyreen raising an eyebrow at his peculiar behavior. She entered the Cathedral, seeing Helen by the altar, “Helen, I have a job for you.”

“….yes, my God Queen,” Helen responded, frowning. 

Please forgive me Troy, the priestess thought.

\--------000000000------------

“Well, you look like something a skag ate and puked out immediately,” Odie commented, “And we all know skags aren’t picky eaters.”

“Shut up, Odie,” Troy hissed out, though muffled under a blueprint sheet of one of his guns. The Calypso was nursing a hangover, his right-hand man sticking around to poke fun at him inside the Surveillance Room.

“Is this about Tyreen and her plaything?” Odie asked, rolling over his chair towards Troy, “I have to say, I’m impressed with Tyreen’s determination! I legit thought it’d be you working your charm with the plaything!”

He thought the same.

“…” Troy groaned.

“What a pitiful fucker,” Odie laughed, twirling in his chair, “Little bro was right, you are fucking jealous- HAHAHA!” The general dodged Troy’s punch, cackling.

“You think this is fucking funny!?” Troy got up, kicking his own chair away, “You won’t be laughing when I fucking pummel your face in!”

“Oh shit, calm down, Troy,” the general said, lifting his hands up, “No need to snap at me, you already did that with my brother!”

“Ugh..” Troy retrieving and sitting back on his chair, slumping down, “I yelled at her.”

“Who?” Odie asked, leaning forward, “Tyreen’s plaything?”

“…Yes…” the Calypso sighed, full on remorse. 

Odie shook his head, “Really? The woman already has enough shit to deal with, especially with Tyreen clinging to her now and you yelled at her?”

“I just…” Troy sat up, hand on his forehead, the headache coming back, “Its fucking unfair… Why did the plaything just went… and give Tyreen the ‘ok’ to approach her?”

“Oh… I see where this going….” Odie said, standing up, grinning, “You’re pissed off because Tyreen did an ‘unTyreen’ thing and took away your glory in hitting it up with her plaything!” Troy groaned again, not wanting to give Odie the satisfaction of his observation. 

“Troy, Troy, this ain’t gonna work out buddy if you lash out, you saw the results with Tyreen,” Odie explained, looking at Troy with disappointment, “If you don’t want to approach the plaything, at least talk to Tyreen to figure out what happened. I’m curious as to what they talked about, Perseus refuses to tell me that part.”

Perseus. 

/You’re jealous./ Troy wondered if Perseus was being truthful or lying about liking you romantically. That ordeal had been the main source of Tyreen’s jealousy.

“Talk to Tyreen,” Odie said, walking over to a console and checking the surveillance feed, “Maybe she’ll put some things into perspective for you.” Troy glanced at the man, then viewed the feed.

It showed the view of the courtyard, Tyreen and you were talking by the water fountain with Perseus and Jackal on the side, watching.

“Remember, you are not the only one looking out for her,” Odie said, smirking.

\--------00000000---------

Helen watched from afar as Troy spoke with a cultist, addressing Jackal, “Another one, huh?” Jackal observed as well, both he and his daughter were in the balcony on the second floor of the Cathedral, looking out into the courtyard. Troy had ceased pestering them both for information about Mikhail, seemingly moving on.

“How many?” Jackal asked, frowning.

Helen sighed, “At least three… Disposing of their bodies was easy enough. I’m surprised he requested for me to kill that woman’s suitors… He didn’t do that with Mikhail.”

“Helen, whatever happens, don’t tell Troy about-“ Helen glared at her father, walking away from the balcony, angry. Jackal had a pained expression on his face as he turned again to see Troy laugh with the woman.

“Let’s see what happens with this one,” Jackal whispered, leaving to search for Helen. 

Troy was unware of the priests’ conversation, too busy with his newfound love. Nekia was a peculiar bandit, always on her feet, ready for action. Troy akin her to a rabid skag, a notion the woman found hilarious, immediately punching him on the arm. The mechanical arm. The Calypso felt pain, for once, in that arm. 

“What do you have inside those gloves?” Troy asked, rubbing his mechanical arm. Nekia lifted her hands up, screws and bolts adorned the knuckles, typical bandit gear. A little pin of a bomb was placed on the wrist area of one of her gloves, Troy’s little gift.

“The essentials,” Nekia mused, “The girls gotta be dressed up for any occasion, Troy.” She winked at him. Troy laughed.

“I thought your girls were your brea-“ He laughed more as Nekia covered his mouth. The woman pouted, playfully glaring at him. 

“How rude!” Nekia protested, removing her hands over Troy’s mouth, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the big sermon instead of pestering me?” Troy sighed, leaning forward, draping his arms over the woman’s shoulders.

“I don’t want to go…” He nuzzled Nekia’s neck, “Ty can go ahead and handle herself.”

“….She’ll know about us if you don’t show up,” Nekia whispered, patting his arm. Troy tensed up, concern bubbling up. He had told Nekia about Mikhail’s fate. 

“I won’t let it happen to you,” Troy replied, kissing the top of Nekia’s head, “She can’t have her way this time…” The woman hummed, glancing up at him.

“Don’t make promises you know you can’t keep…” the woman’s sad tone got him nervous, “Your safety is my priority.” One of the bodyguards for a frightening man. 

“Stop it. Don’t talk like that,” Troy pleaded, turning her around to face him, “You are under my command, not hers…”

Nekia didn’t respond, only nodding. She wasn’t convinced. After all, the top dog of the CoV was Tyreen. For a while, Troy managed to hide his relationship with Nekia, until they were caught by the God Queen herself. 

“How nice…” Tyreen muttered, arms crossed, “Found another bedwarmer?”

Troy hissed, standing in front of Nekia, “None of your damn fucking business, Tyreen.” Nekia grabbed onto Troy’s jacket, afraid.

“We can make this less messy than it needs to be, Troy,” Tyreen said, locking gaze with Nekia who peeked out. The woman gasped, hiding once again behind Troy. 

“We’re leaving…” Troy said, arm wrapped around Nekia as he maneuvered around Tyreen. They weren’t able to get far before Nekia screamed, falling to her knees. Troy’s eyes widen, turning around to face Tyreen. His sister activated her powers, Nekia growing pale by the second. 

“I told you, Troy. No mess,” Tyreen spat out, increasing her hold on Nekia, “Walk away and she’ll live, don’t worry.” Troy stepped back, conflicted.

“D-Do it…”

Troy stared at Nekia. The woman was barely breathing, “W-Walk away… I’ll be fine…” The same thing with Mikhail. 

**Walk away and everything would be fine.**

Troy wanted to scream at Tyreen but nothing came out of his mouth. 

“Troy,” Tyreen said, voiced laced with irritation. Tyreen’s entourage, a small group of priests following her, went to grab the woman. Helen carefully grabbed her, easing her up. Nekia was gasping, pale. Troy clenched his fists, taking a deep breath, turning around and left. His heart tightened as he heard Nekia cry out in pain as she was dragged away.

“You will thank me eventually, Troy,” Tyreen said, loud enough for him to hear him. Troy snarled, walking faster.

The following day, only his small group of bodyguards were present, Nekia not part of it. She was sent elsewhere, far away from the hub. Like with Mikhail, Troy attempted to get information out of Helen and Jackal, the latter pleading him to stop. Helen, by her part, never divulged information. When the priestess went to go look for him, he hoped she was going to tell him the location, but she didn’t.

“Troy… I’m sorry,” Helen said, “I-“

“You were doing your job, following orders,” Troy said, not turning around to face her.

“Troy-“

“Leave me alone,” Troy added, his mechanical arm breaking the balcony’s rail. He glared at Tyreen who was walking through the courtyard of their living complex. Helen bowed and retreated, glancing back at him, sad. At times it was difficult to follow orders and helping a ‘friend.’

Troy wandered back to his room, repeating the same process he did with Mikhail, locked up in his room. He curled up in his bed, distraught. Troy had now lost two people. What had happened? He never got in Tyreen’s way, he let her have the spotlight, the attention of everyone, the praises and cheers. All he wanted was a little something to call his own. Just for him. Not handed over by Tyreen. 

“Why… why…” Troy whispered to himself, “Why…”

Tyreen had it all. 

He didn’t.

The brightest star devouring everything in its path, including her brother.

But sometimes, there was light in the darkness, even if it was a shimmer, a tiny speck that hadn’t been touched by Tyreen. Troy held on to it once again.

Maybe… third time’s the charm? Right?

He observed the vast expanse of the waste from the rooftop of the building in the Harvest grounds, admiring the night sky. Little things like this soothed his nerves, especially after days and days of dealing with raids and expanding the CoV. Despite his influence, he was never able to get information about of Mikhail and Nekia. Part of him hoped they were doing well, especially with the troubles they garnered by being around the Twin God.

“Up here again?”

The tall Calypso scooted to the aside, allowing passage up the rooftop. A petite woman sat next to him, getting comfortable. Troy patted the woman’s head, hearing a giggle.

“Yeah, sometimes I wish I could, you know, travel and all,” Troy mused, “Don’t you, Morgana?” The woman grinned at the mention of her name, nodding. Her small size compared to his towering self was laughable but Troy enjoyed being able to hold her with ease. Morgana was a warehouse supervisor, the Calypso fancying her during a raid campaign after seeing her ability to use his modified weapons in the field. However, she was popular among the warehouse mechanics, causing Troy to send Helen to nix those who got too close to Morgana.

“I mean, we do travel, the raids, but I know what you mean,” Morgana replied, chuckling, “I’ve always been stuck in Promethea. You’ve been to other planets, no?”

“For raids, bringing other bandits under our flag, no time for sight-seeing,” Troy sighed, leaning back against the rooftop, “Ty doesn’t let me stray too far from her, thinking I’m going to collapse any second.” He grabbed on to the red vials, Morgana eyeing them with curiosity. She was aware of their true purpose for the Calypso.

“You’re strong, I don’t see why you’d have any issues… big sister instinct?” Morgana said, Troy looking at her with a baffled expression.

“Pft, big sister instinct? Ty? Only when it’s convenient for her, I guess,” Troy said, rubbing the back of his head, “Shitty way to show it though.” Like ‘dismissing’ Mikhail and Nekia. Morgana gave him a warm smile.

“Hey, maybe one day, we can see other planets without dealing with raids and all, when you and Tyreen manage to open the Great Vault,” Morgana said, “That’s the end goal right? After that, nothing else to worry about.”

The Great Vault. 

Mother’s escape from her prison that he and Tyreen had taken on, creating the cult to search for it. Optimistic, he and Tyreen were sure to find it soon, the CoV having reach followers across the galaxies.

Troy grinned, “Yeah, after the Great Vault, nothing will be on our way…” He caressed Morgana’s cheek, the woman gently grabbing his hand. A pin resembling the planet of Promethea was tucked on the wristband of the woman. 

They both got ahead of themselves, researching planets and checking out certain cities they’d like to visit. As a joke amongst each other, they even designed their own spaceship, one of the schematics included a rendering of Troy’s mechanical arm with lasers. For a time, things were going well for both of them, Tyreen’s attention diverted elsewhere with the openings of several Vaults in Promethea and looting the riches inside. All was well within the CoV, everyone getting comfortable with the struck of luck.

Too comfortable.

_Way too comfortable._

Troy thought he and Morgana were alone in his and Tyreen’s main living quarters.

No one informed him of his sister’s early arrival.

Tyreen stared at Troy, narrowing her eyes, “Troy.” After stumbling upon the lovers, they were dragged into the throne room under heavy scrutiny of the priests. She snapped her fingers, beckoning the woman to move away from Troy. 

He gritted his teeth as Morgana stepped forward, the woman refusing to look at him. She reached Tyreen, the priests ushering her to the door behind the God Queen. Morgana quickly glanced at Troy as she was led away, tears falling. Helen and Jackal watched from the side of the expansive hall, quiet in the presence of the God Queen. 

“Damnit…” Troy snarled, “W-Why?! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!” Emotions were high. Tyreen gave him a cold look.

“You’re getting soft,” Tyreen said, “Getting attached to your bedwarmers.”

“They are not bedwarmers!” Troy shouted, breathing heavily, “You’re always taking them away from me!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Troy!” Tyreen yelled, her Siren tattoos flaring up, “While I’m out there trying to recruit followers and shit, you’re somewhere fucking around!”

“Oh right, like I don’t do anything for this damn cult, is that it?!” Troy growled, “Do I need to remind you that Mother put us both in charge?!” Tyreen got up from her throne, stomping over to Troy, hissing back.

“I am well aware of that Troy, but I’m the one with the power around here,” Tyreen inched closer to him, “You better know your place just like they did.”

Mikhail and Nekia.

And now Morgana.

Troy looked down, fists shaking. To know his place.

He knew where he stood. He knew his place.

In Tyreen’s ever growing shadow. 

\------0000000-------

Tyreen was in bliss. She was experiencing a ‘rebirth,’ feeling more alive than ever. The past few days had been eventful, visiting Perseus whenever she could for ‘lessons’ and spending time with you. There was a lot to learn and put into practice when interacting with you, and she was making the effort for it. 

Perseus, upon finding out that Tyreen knew your name, was visibly upset, believing the God Queen had hurt you to get the information. You later assured him it wasn’t the case, divulging it willingly to Tyreen. 

“Its important to be on the lookout for cues on her part,” Perseus said, “As you know, she’s not the type to dish out affection…”

“Yeah..” Tyreen responded, rubbing her hands together, nervous. She followed his stern orders to keep her hands to herself, verbally asking permission to hold your hand or kiss you, and to back off whenever you displayed displeasure with her close proximity. There were a few slip-ups, Tyreen managing to save herself at times. 

“As always, avoid subjects regarding fighting, she doesn’t like that either,” Perseus added, “So, it was a good idea about the garden.”

“She’s liked it, I think it’s a good place to take her instead of my living quarters,” Tyreen said, feeling more at ease, “She told me she liked to garden when… she lived with… you know..”

Master and Trinity.

Perseus nodded, “Avoid that as well, talking about Trinity that is… If she opens up about it, let her speak and don’t ask questions… We’ve seen she gets agitated on that.”

“I won’t bother her about it, but we both know she’ll have to answer them eventually,” Tyreen said, “Especially with the Vault of Power and the serum experiments…”

“Unfortunate, but I’m aware,” Perseus said, sighing, eyeing the door slightly open, “Just come in…!” Tyreen turned to face the new guest, Odie barging in.

“Ah, so it seems therapy sessions run in the family, eh, little brother?” Odie said, grinning. 

Perseus growled, crossing his arms, “What do you want?”

“Pft, rude, so this is what you meant by using my ‘office’ for huh? Fancy seeing you here Tyreen,” Odie said, chuckling, “To think you are in the same room as the source of jealousy and not acting out shows impressive developments on your part!”

“Odie…” Tyreen hissed out, “Not in the mood to play games…”

“Same!” Odie threw himself on the worn-out couch, laying on his side, resting his head on his propped hand, “Baby brother, do you mind if I take over? You’re needed at the warehouse.”

“Stop calling me that,” Perseus huffed, getting up from his seat, “We’re done for the day either way.” He bowed at Tyreen, leaving and closing the door. Once the door clicked, Odie glared at Tyreen.

“You need to stop playing games,” Odie said, still retaining his laidback posture, “You need to talk to Troy.” 

“About?” Tyreen asked, shifting her gaze elsewhere, feeling the heavy weight of Odie’s intense stare.

“Don’t beat around the bush,” the general sat up now, crossing his arms, “You’re being a hypocrite and you know it.” Tyreen played with her jacket, tearing a bit of the fabric. 

“I still don’t know-“

“Mikhail.”

Tyreen whipped her head up, glaring at Odie. The general was holding a finger up.

“Nekia.”

Two fingers.

Tyreen inhaled deeply.

“Morgana.”

Three fingers.

Anger in Odie’s eyes.

“Charon.”

Four fingers.

“Odie…” Tyreen attempted to speak. Her Siren tattoos were flaring up, sensing her distress.

“Helen.”

Five.

His hand was lifted up, “Five people. Dead.”

“….” Tyreen growled then glared at the floor. 

“Is Andromeda going to be added to the list?” Odie asked. This caught her attention.

“W-What? N-No! Wait, how do you know her nam-“

“Answer the question, Tyreen. Yes or no,” Odie asked again.

“No,” Tyreen stated, glaring weakly at him, “…You called me a hypocrite…”

“You punished Troy for having lovers, having Helen kill them with the excuse they were sent away. Of course, she got the same treatment,” Odie gestured towards her, “And now, look at you! Going about your day with a plaything!”

**Plaything.**

“….” Tyreen didn’t answer, biting her lip.

“Honestly, I was expecting you to talk to her, that’s it…. But you are two are now… together…? What the fuck? How did that happen?” Odie asked, baffled, “I think Troy didn’t see that happening either! Shit, even my brother and Jackal were about to have a heart attack when they found out!”

“…Its complicated,” Tyreen responded, biting her nail, “I don’t want to go into details. She is letting me near her, that’s all it matters to me.”

“Huh… I don’t know what you are planning or eventually going to do, but you… You have to apologize to Troy,” the general said, “You fucking owe it to him.”

Years and years and she never recalled any of Troy’s lovers, only Helen. That extended to the playthings that were killed by her brother as revenge for what she did. 

/I’m going to hurt you for what you did to her and for taking them away from me!/ Troy exploded when she harmed you, the same manner when dismissing his ‘bedwarmers.’

/Do you at least remember their names?!/ You never uttered your name to her, yet you were worried for others who were long dead.

“You can’t ignore this anymore Tyreen,” Odie said, snapping her back to reality, “You know well enough that if that Master asshole finds out about you being with Andromeda, there’s no telling what he’ll do… and for that, you and Troy need settle your matters!”

Facing harsh truths.

“…I know,” Tyreen said, lifting her head up high. 

She wasn’t going to let Master and Trinity get in the way anymore.

\-------00000000------

“Hello, Troy,” Helen said, watching the Calypso approach her, “No, I don’t know where she is. As always, even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you… the God Queen’s orders.”

Troy sat down next to her in the Cathedral’s courtyard, looking worse for wear, exhausted. He only grunted in response, leaning back in the makeshift bench seat. Helen, who had been polishing her daggers, put them away, turning to look at Troy.

“You should get some sleep, actual sleep,” Helen whispered, shaking her head, “The others have begun noticing your change in appearance.” The CoV cultists.

“I don’t give a shit about them…” Troy said, slurring his words, “I don’t give a shit at all… what good is to have this fucking position and prestige if my own fucking sister just takes everything away from me…” 

“Come to think of it, she hasn’t had any lovers after the merge of El Capitan’s bandit camps,” Helen glanced down at her hands, “Last one boasted some explicit things that she didn’t take too kindly at. We all know what happened to him.”

Death.

“Not my fucking fault she has horrible taste in bandits,” Troy said, staring up at sky, seeing the night stars appearing, “Pft, are you saying she’s taking it out on me because she can’t get fucking laid?”

Helen shrugged, “I’m not saying anything, just minor observations is all. I’m sure there’s plenty of cultists willing to satisfy her in any way.”

“That’s the problem, she doesn’t want them, ugh,” Troy sat up straight, “She’s so damn picky and uptight. If only I could get her distracted with her own fucking bedwarmer, that’d make my life easier.”

The priestess chuckled at the thought, shaking her head, “And what, you’re going to kill them as well? Revenge? Besides, she’ll probably leech them if she finds out you were the one setting her up.”

True.

Troy rubbed his face, frustrated, “…Can’t stand Tyreen…” 

“Careful now, she has eyes and ears around these parts,” Helen reminded him, “They want to have good standing with Tyreen.”

“I’ll just kill them,” Troy countered, huffing.

“Heh, whatever works, right?” Helen mused, watching Troy stand up, “Just think things through, don’t lash out… I doubt the cultists would take kindly to chaos with the main honchos.” The Calypso chuckled, walking away from the priestess.

“Helen?” Troy paused, looking back at her. 

“Yes?” Helen asked.

“Thanks,” the Calypso said, giving her a curt nod, “For listening.”

She smiled, “No, problem. We’ve known each other for how longt? Since we were 15? Heh, at least its better than getting wasted with my father.” Fun times. 

Troy chuckled, waving at her as he left the Cathedral’s courtyard, “Make sure to check up on him if he’s not passed out by the pews.” The priestess gave out a hearty laugh, waving back, something in Troy sparking up.

He enjoyed the priestess’s company. 

\------00000000------

“It’s been a shit show, Helen,” you said, kneeling down by her grave, adjusting the new flowers on the patch, “Still alive and kicking, unfortunately.” The flowers swayed with your touch, enjoying the attention. Donovan’s skull became a permanent fixture on the gravestone, the melting wax from the small lit candles inside the eye holes providing a ‘weeping’ expression of anguish. 

You sat next to the grave, taking out a bottle of rakk-ale, popping it open, “I have to catch you up on the gossip, oh boy, you will be rolling down there when I finish…” Taking a sip, leaning backwards, you looked up at the sky.

“Tyreen and I are… together…?” you said, unsure how to explain, “It’s a strange arrangement, really. I threatened to kill her if I got bored of her and she went along with it. Huh…”

…

“Yeah, I know, what a shocker,” you said, downing more rakk-ale, “I wasn’t expecting for her to roll with it… So now she’s been clinging to me, well, not literally, but you know what I mean!”

….

“Shut up, Donovan, I bet you are seething,” you laughed, peering inside the bottle through its small opening, “Fucker tried to kill me and look at where I am, having the God Queen eating out of the palm of my hand…Hmmm…..”

….

“Bet you are jealous of that, eh, Helen,” you patted the gravestone, a flower curled around your hand, “….Maybe if I had accepted her earlier you wouldn’t be down there…”

She’s dead, the little monster said, she can’t hear you.

“I know,” you responded, “She’s asleep, don’t be too loud.”

…

Tears startled the flower, facing up to catch more. You hiccupped, sniffing, “What a piss show.. I think Troy hates me, which by the way I’m indifferent about. He saw me holding hands with Tyreen, ridiculous. He yelled at me…”

…..

“Hey, Helen… Remember when you asked me if I missed the man I used to love?” you asked, taking another sip, “I do… Seeing him again up close… my mind was filled with such intense emotion…”

Intense sentiment.

Burning desire, the little monster said, deep desire.

“The deep desire to hold him… hold him close…” you smiled, sighing, “as I choke the life out of him…”

Ehehehe, the little monster chuckled.

You gritted your teeth, pouring the rest of the rakk-ale on the grave, the flowers shaking the liquid off, “We were bound to others, our fates held in their hands… I won’t repeat the same mistake you did Helen.”

You had done it once and survived. She didn’t.

Hugging the gravestone, you felt the warmth of the candles, whispering, “I’m going to use the Calypsos… just like how they used you and the others….”

All for the sake of destroying Cetus and Trinity.

You saw red.

You had yet to see what the blood of a Siren looked like.

\--------00000000000000----------

Helen cleaned the blade of her ceremonial dagger on her robe, ignoring the twitching body that laid before her. She was given specific instructions by Troy: Kill the competition. Was she enabling him again? 

“He needs this… After what Tyreen did…” she whispered to herself, putting her dagger away and grabbing the feet of the dead cultist, dragging the body away from sight. Someone had caught Troy’s eye yet again after losing Morgana, the priestess on the hunt on his orders to make sure no one would get near his source of infatuation.

A medic by the name of Charon. 

Troy had met the man while recovering from a grueling raid, being nursed back to full health by him. He had vaguely heard about Charon, Pip making an off comment about a medic in his staff that was knowledgeable on body mods and a bit of cybernetics. While Troy was in the infirmary, the medic introduced himself as the one who created the body mod for the Calypso’s split jaw. 

“When Prophet Pip told me about the request, I was a bit skeptical… but I can see it hasn’t caused any issues for you, Father Troy? Had to reinforce the frame around the lips,” Charon had asked, curious. 

Troy had been stupefied enough to blurt out, “No, want to try it out?” The medic, red on his face, immediately left, the situation too awkward. The Calypso thought the man would avoid coming around, but Charon came back the following day. The medic stayed with Troy until the Calypso was released, back to full health. Pip then began to see an uptick in Troy’s visits to the infirmary, trailing behind Charon like a lovesick puppy skag.

“….Another one?” Pip muttered. When Pip saw the little vaccine shot pin on Charon bearing Troy’s initials, there was no point in telling him to stay away from the Calypso.

What Father Troy wanted, he’d get.

**Until Tyreen got her hands on it.**

Tyreen had a tight grip on Charon, dragging and tossing him at the priests that were ready to escort the man away. Troy was held back by Badass Psychos, yelling at his sister. He thought he had been more careful in keeping the man away from Tyreen’s eyes since Charon was a medic with Pip. 

“Please.. please have mercy on Father Troy, my God Queen,” Charon begged, hissing when Tyreen slapped him. 

“You don’t get to order me around, bedwarmer…” Tyreen growled, turning to face Troy, “AND YOU! I thought you had learned your lesson!”

“You fucking bitch! If you put another finger on him-!” Troy threatened, struggling under the grip of the Badass Psychos, “YOU’RE NOT TAKING HIM AWAY!”

Tyreen snapped her fingers, gesturing at the priests to leave the premises with the man. She briefly locked gaze with Helen, the priestess looking away. Troy screamed more as he saw the priests depart, snarling. 

“DAMN YOU TYREEN! DAMN YOU!” Troy shouted. 

Tyreen approached him, glaring, “Trying to damn your own sister? That’s cold, little brother.”

Troy snarled, baring his teeth, “You’re the cold bitch here… taking them away from me… You have everything yet…!” Tyreen’s glare softened but resumed its intense stare.

“Me? Have everything? Don’t be ridiculous, ha!” Tyreen laughed, shaking her head, “What a fuckin-“

“You’re jealous.”

“What,” Tyreen said, turning to face Troy again, “What did you say?”

“You’re jealous…” Troy said, low voice, expression full of anger, “You’re jealous because no one loves you….” 

**SLAP!**

Laughing despite the sting on his cheek, Troy looked up at Tyreen, manic, “No one fucking loves a cold bitch like you! You’re a fucking asshole… Taking them away because I get to have someone that loves me!”

Tyreen’s face turned to disgust, “They don’t fucking love yo-“

“Mikhail, Nekia, Morgana, and Charon did!” Troy struggled more, the Badass Psychos tightening their grip on the Calypso, “What would you know about love?! Even if it hit you in the fucking face you would just fucking destroy it!”

“Take him away,” Tyreen said, voice deep, “Before I do something I regret.” She hissed at Troy, making her way to her throne. Troy kept laughing as the Badass Psychos dragged him out of the main hall, his voice echoing around, taunting Tyreen. With the newfound information, Troy began mocking his sister, his anger turning to pure spite.

Everyone loved the God Queen.

But no one loved Tyreen.

She would deny it over and over again, arguments breaking out between the two.

Despite his tactics, he once again tried to obtain information about Charon’s whereabouts, believing he might at least save the man. Pip, the first person Troy went to, did not know the whereabouts of the medic, even voicing lament over the loss of personnel and throwing a low jab at Troy for the trouble the Calypso caused Charon. 

He skipped Jackal, the priest probably too drunk to tell him but even sober, the priest would keep his mouth shut. Troy’s next target: Helen.

“I can’t tell you where he is,” Helen sighed, giving him an annoyed look, “Tyreen’s orders.”

“You need to tell me where Charon is!” Troy demanded, getting too close to Helen, “Tyreen’s a little shit for being jealous of my relationships!” A piece of information Troy had spilled to the priestess in an earlier conversation. 

“What about the others? Are you going to search them out as well? I mean… you did move on… so to speak,” the priestess gestured, adjusting the items at the altar in the Cathedral.

“I will go look for them, make sure they are okay… Its been years since I’ve seen them…” Troy confessed, feeling guilty, “But Charon is the one I lost now… I’m sure the others have moved on as well.” Helen grimaced, nodding.

“What’s wrong?” Troy asked, sensing something.

“N-Nothing, its just… a bit too much, don’t you think?” Helen said, looking away, “What if the others are doing fine.. without you.. .and then you drop by? Ever thought of that?”

“….” Troy stepped away from her, letting her comment soak in, “….you know something, don’t you?”

Helen played with the sleeve of her robe, averting her gaze from him, “They’ve moved on, Troy… I’ll leave it at that. Please don’t ask any other questions about them.” 

Troy shook his head, “I’m not buying it. Tell me, Helen… that’s an order.” The priestess was conflicted: serve loyally to the Twin Gods despite her familiarity with them before the days of the CoV but having to pick Tyreen’s or Troy’s side.

Helen shook her head, “I-I can’t… Ah!” Troy grabbed her arm roughly, growling down at her.

“Spit it out…” Troy hissed out, tightening his grip on the woman’s arm. 

She wasn’t afraid, merely startled, but Troy’s demeanor could rapidly change if she were to say anything. Helen prayed to any deity that she’d get out of this alive.

“….They are no longer here, Troy,” Helen said, hushed, “They’re gone…”

Troy narrowed his eyes, unable to understand what she was referring to.

“Charon as well… he’s gone…” Helen said, breathing labored, “He’s not coming back ever…”

…

**_No._ **

“…Its not wise to lie to me-“ Troy pushed Helen away, tears threatening to fall, “ITS NOT WISE TO LIE TO ME!” He grabbed a pew and tossed over, snarling. 

“I-I tried telling you, Troy… I just… I’m sorry…” Helen begged, seeing the Calypso destroy more pews, dropping to his knees, wailing. She rushed over, embracing him as he clung to her. He wept, his body shaking.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Helen repeated, hugging him tighter.

“Who killed them? Who fucking killed them?!” Troy cried out, looking up at her, begging.

The priestess parted away from him, biting her bottom lip, guilt ridden expression on her face.

“Helen…?” Troy asked, “Who killed them…?”

“I did,” Helen responded, “Under Tyreen’s orders…”

Troy punched the floor, hand getting bruised, “…..Quick?”

“Yes…” Helen confirmed, “Had it been someone else doing it… I’m sure it would have drawn out…” Worse if Tyreen was the one committing the act, leeching their life force away, turned to husks. 

Troy got up, mixed emotions numbing him, and approached Helen. The priestess didn’t back off, only giving him a sad look with worry. He hugged her for a moment then let go before walking away, stumbling towards the exit of the Cathedral. 

“Troy…? W-Where are you going?!” Helen yelled, running after him, grabbing his arm, “D-Don’t do anything stupid, if something happens to you-“

“I don’t give a shit what happens to me anymore… What’s the fucking use of being around if Tyreen is just going to trample over anything I have…” Troy said, exhausted, “I’ll give her a piece of my mind…” Helen didn’t let go, Troy trying to get her off.

“Let go…!” Troy ordered.

“No! I can’t let you out in this state!” Helen said, determined, “Think about the chaos it will cause if the cultists find out about you trying to kill Tyreen!”

“Grr… of course, everyone cares about the God Queen but not about Father Tr-“

“I care about you, Troy,” Helen interjected, “It pained me seeing you hurt from Tyreen’s actions… I wish I could have helped you… I wish I could have helped them… the only way I was able to was granting them a quick, painless death…”

“….” Troy got quiet and stopped struggling.

“…Lashing out is not going to bring them back…” Helen whispered as she reached inside her sleeve, pulling out a small leather wallet. Troy eyed the item then at the priestess. She opened the wallet, viewing the contents before showing it to Troy.

Four small metal items neatly laid on the inside: a skull with snake skin marks, a bomb, a planet resembling Promethea, and a vaccine shot. 

Gifts that Troy had given to Mikhail, Nekia, Morgana, and Charon.

Helen handed the wallet to him, “…Each of them requested for me to hand those back to you… I figured now since you know the truth…” Troy touched the emblems, remembering the long hours he spent cutting, grinding, and engraving the details of each item, carefully curating them. Gifts made with love, now without owners, Troy’s heart empty yet again.

Wood scrapping against the stone floor startled Troy as he looked up, seeing Helen dragging the tussled pews back to their original spots. He closed the wallet, placing it inside his jacket’s pocket before approaching the priestess.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Helen gave him an ‘are you kidding?’ look as she pointed out the mess he made.

“Oh… I…” Troy finally observed this handiwork as he rubbed his face, “Let me help with you that…”

“Next sermon is starting soon,” Helen whispered, “Tyreen is conducting this time around, I doubt you want her seeing this.” Both worked quickly, finishing before the first cultists started to arrive. The ‘Father Troy’ mood kicked in, the Calypso chatting up and messing around with the cultists. Helen watched from afar, wondering if Troy was already in a stable mood. Her question was answered when the man beelined his way to her upon hearing Tyreen’s voice outside the large, wooden main doors of the Cathedral. 

“Get me out of here, I don’t want to see her,” Troy whispered, following Helen up the stairwell leading to the second floor of the Cathedral. She led him back to her study, opening the door to reveal a sleeping Jackal on the reclining couch.

“If we’re lucky, he left some booze for us,” Helen mused, closing the door, “Either way, there’s a stash, want a drink…?” Troy sat on the floor, leaning against the old bookcase littered with odd trinkets and sorts, nodding. He was too mentally exhausted for anything else.

With luck, Helen found two bottles of rakk-ale, handing one to Troy, keeping the other. She sat across from him, opening the bottle. An intense silence fell on them as they heard the sermon commence downstairs, Tyreen’s voicing echoing through the floorboards.

Troy broke his bottle with his bare hand. 

\-------00000000-------

Awkward silence.

Both twins were seated opposite sides in their sprawling living room, the area empty of joy and boisterous laughter from either of them when they wind down from a long day in the hub. Troy was slumped on the couch, staring at Tyreen. She, in return, stared back, not breaking eye contact, pinching her finger to keep calm.

“Troy-“

“Tyreen-“

…

“You go first,” Tyreen quickly said, forcing a smile. 

“….” Troy sat up straight, resting his arms on his knees, hunched, “…..”

She waited, patiently as best as she could. Troy let out a deep sigh, his human hand getting lost in his hair, “I fucking hate you.”

A frown appeared on Tyreen’s lips. No secret for her. 

“I fucking hate you… After everything you’ve done to her…” Troy hissed out, “Slapping, hair-pulling… the bruises… beating her up… Why are YOU the one with her!?”

Tyreen wished for zero confrontation, but Troy was already angry from the start, “Like your innocent yourself, you killed my previous playthings in an attempt to piss me off… You have no room to talk…”

“Heh, that I’m aware of, at least I don’t deny it,” Troy growled, agitated, “You… on the other hand, refuse to admit the shit you’ve done!”

“You’re mad I spoke to my plaything,” Tyreen said, clenching her fists, “Is that it?”

“Did you threaten her?” Troy asked, eye twitching, “I hardly believe she’d be willing let you near her!”

Tyreen blinked, slapping the arm rest of the couch, tapping her fingers angrily, “I didn’t threaten her.”

“Then how the fuck do you explain-“

“She threatened me,” the God Queen stared at Troy, expression neutral.

“Of fucking course, you would- Wait, what?” Troy did a double-take to register what Tyreen said, “….She threatened you? The hell…? To be with you?” Had it been another scenario, the God Queen would be laughing her head off at how stupid it sounded.

No laughing matter unfortunately.

“No, I talked to her after the arena fight.. a heated argument broke out…” Tyreen said, recounting the meeting at the garden, “…I essentially begged on my knees to let me near her.” She looked away, nervous and embarrassed. 

Troy got quiet, observing his sister. 

Tyreen desperately begging? Unheard of!

“She’s only humoring me, Troy,” Tyreen continued, facing away from him, “I accepted her crazy condition that if she grew bored of me, she’d kill me.” Chuckling, she wiped a tear from her cheek. 

“You have a better chance with her, honestly,” she added, voice cracking slightly, “I mean, I’m a horrible person… what do I know about loving someone? Am I doing it right? I-I am trying my best to please her…”

“Tyreen-“

Tyreen laughed pathetically, more tears falling, “This is karma for what I did to you all those years… for what I did to Helen… You once told me that I wouldn’t even know what love was even if it hit me… that I would destroy it…”

When Charon was taken away.

“And look at me… Look at what happened…” Tyreen wiped more tears, “I almost killed her, Troy…”

And you returned the favor with a death threat.

“….” Troy hadn’t expected to see Tyreen’s helplessness, pitiful to watch.

But she deserves it, Troy thought.

His anger dissolved as he got up, not wanting to continue the conversation. Troy walked by Tyreen, placing his human hand on her shoulder, feeling her tense up.

“Don’t drown in this fantasy of yours,” Troy said, squeezing her shoulder lightly, “Accept that she doesn’t love you, it will be easier on your mind. Not everything will be amended overnight.” He left the living room, pausing when Tyreen called out to him.

“I won’t interfere if you decide to pursue her,” Tyreen said, almost a whisper.

Part of him believed it, the other half didn’t. 

\----000000-----

After the night of heavy drinking with Helen and talking away his sorrows, Troy found himself gravitating towards the woman despite her hands were stained by the blood of his lovers. He wanted to initially hate Helen but couldn’t, having known her for a long time and coming to terms she was following orders from Tyreen. His mind gnawed that she should have done more, sometimes his own mind would counter her hands were tied – he himself walked away when ordered to by his sister. 

Troy had suspected foul play from the beginning with Mikhail but only came to that conclusion to feel better, trying to cope with his first heartbreak. He repeated the same with Nekia and Morgana. Charon was the latest to wound him. Every time he glanced at Tyreen or close proximity to her, he had to bite back the urge to punch her, spitting out taunts on how no one tolerated her enough to love her. 

The siblings were more apart than ever, the tension high when both were in the same room. They still played their roles for the cultists out in the public and to some degree in front of their generals, but even they were feeling the suffocating hate between Troy and Tyreen. 

“How long are they going to be like this?” Odie asked, pulling at his hair, “We can’t even discuss anything without them lashing at each other!”

“It’s that whole bedwarmer shit, the God Queen has stepped on Troy’s toes,” Donovan replied, crossing his arms, annoyed, “When that medic was taken away, Troy snapped or so I was told.”

“Can’t blame him, they were so cute together,” Moksha said, frowning, “Pity about the outcome.”

“Yeah, well, we were all Father Troy’s accomplices,” Pip said, taking a drag out of his cigarette, “Technically not our business what the God Queen and Father Troy do behind closed doors respectively.”

“What a mess,” Basil said, eyeing the twins from afar, “Neither is going to apologize to the other.”

The generals shook their heads, dismayed. With the cult intact, they couldn’t argue much but situations like this were just a ticking time bomb. However, their fortunes changed.

Troy would show up calmer to the meetings, even surprising Tyreen. Immediately the God Queen had someone tail him around to see if he had another ‘bedwarmer’ but nothing came out. The generals did not complain, simply going about their business and grateful for the change of mood on Troy. He stopped taunting Tyreen, to the God Queen’s relief. 

Troy’s heart had been mended again.

But he had competition as always.

“This is fifth time this week,” Helen said, exhausted, “How many times are you going to be picking fights with Donovan?” The question wasn’t directed to Troy.

Helen was nursing Odie’s wounds out in the Cathedral’s courtyard, the general usually getting into fights with Troy’s right-hand man. The general sniffed, watching Troy approach him and Helen.

“Sup,” Odie said, his cheek red and swollen, “And no, I didn’t try to kill him.”

Troy raised an eyebrow, eyeing them both, “So, she’s been the one patching you up all this time?” 

“He refuses to go to Prophet Pip, says he pokes him more than necessary,” Helen mused, finishing bandaging Odie’s arm, “Jackal taught me the basics and well, Odie’s still kicking around.”

“Maybe a little kiss on my boo-boo will make it better?” Odie teased, snickering as Helen laughed. Troy narrowed his eyes. 

How long had Odie been visiting Helen? Every time Troy would come around the Cathedral, he hardly ever saw the general around. Jealousy bubbled up in him. He had enough with Tyreen taking everything from him, no one else was going to do that.

Helen complied, the general ‘squeeing’ in glee, “That’s your yearly one, no more.”

“Aw…” Odie pouted, but nodded. Troy snorted, eye twitching slightly. The duo looked up at him. 

“Looking for company or what?” Odie asked, flinching when he tried to grin, his bruised cheek hurting, “We can cozy up somewhere.” He and Helen laughed, but it died when Troy didn’t join their banter. 

“Bleh, I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” Odie mumbled, glancing at Helen, gesturing towards Troy. She merely shrug, confused by Troy’s sudden mood change.

“Don’t mind me. Helen, is Jackal around?” Troy asked, irritated. 

Helen pointed at the Cathedral, “He’s inside setting up for your next Livescream…” Troy nodded, making his way to the building. He heard the priestess and Odie resumed their chat, jealousy eating at Troy. 

And it went on like this, Troy becoming aware of the constant, annoying presence of Odie around the Cathedral, usually following Jackal and Helen around, chatting with them or helping out the priestess with newcomers. The fights with Donovan increased as well, Odie finding himself back with Helen to tend to his injuries.

To Troy, the general was becoming an eyesore. 

A pest.

“You’ve been coming around these parts awfully a lot, Troy,” Odie said, curiously observing the Calypso, “Entertained by the new batch of priests joining the ranks or what?” The men were both on the second floor inside of the Cathedral, looking down at the commotion going on below them. Helen and other priests were conducting a sacrifice, Tyreen leeching a prisoner from a rival bandit clan for a LiveScream.

“Something like that,” Troy lied, semi-glaring at Odie. Helen’s attention was difficult to get with the general always around, hogging all of it. His visible irritation did not go unnoticed by the man.

“…You’re a terrible liar,” Odie said, continuing, “You’ve been glaring at me all the time, I’m surprised you don’t have wrinkles on your forehead.”

“…Tch,” Troy hissed, standing erect, towering over the man, “Watch your mouth.”

“No, watch yours,” Odie replied, unfazed by Troy’s sudden change in demeanor, “You don’t like me around Helen.”

_Boom._

Troy narrowed his eyes, close to snarling, “If you know what’s good for you, back off.”

A threat.

Odie smirked, shaking his head, “Or what, you’ll have her kill me too?” Troy’s eyes widen, caught off guard.

“She told you….” Troy muttered, angry. Did Helen betray his trust?

“No, but your face confirmed it,” Odie pointed out, looking at Troy in disgust, “Pretty low if you ask me, offing the competition like that. I’m not the God Queen’s dog for nothing, I’m able to sniff a bitch out when I see one.”

“You-!” Troy grabbed Odie by the collar, extremely furious. The general laughed, patting the Calypso’s metal arm, “Shiny.”

“What is going on here?”

Odie grinned, waving at Helen, “Nothing much, just Troy being Troy, you know?” The Calypso dumped Odie, huffing. The priestess, covered in blood and tired, gave them an exhausted, pleading look.

“Odie, I just patched you up and already getting into fights?” Helen asked, approaching the duo “When will you ever learn?”

“Never!” the general chirped, “Ah, me and Father Troy were just having some good ol’ heart to heart conversation.” Troy glared at him. 

Helen chuckled, patting her robes, “Well, I just came to check the commotion up here. The God Queen isn’t pleased you two ruined her meal, we all know how cranky she gets.”

That was the least of Helen’s worries.

“Sorry about that, I’m on my way out!” Odie skipped forward, pinching Helen’s cheek, “See you later cutie!” She smacked his hand away, rubbing her cheek, laughing at the general’s antics. When she faced Troy, Helen was startled. If looks could kill, Odie would have been dead on the spot.

“Uh… Troy?” Helen asked, worried, “What did he tell you? He tends to be too forward with everyone…” He shook his head, sighing.

“I forget that little detail of his… and he didn’t say much, usual pissy jokes,” Troy said, relaxing his posture, “Helen, I was wondering if you-“

“Helen, we are about to begin again the LiveScream,” Jackal was at the edge of the stairs, looking over to them, “Oh…” Troy silently cursed under his breath at the priest’s interruption.

“We’ll talk later, okay? I gotta go,” Helen said, meeting up with her father, “Duty calls!” Troy heard Jackal asking her about the commotion, her response drowned away as they left. Odie’s stunt on him stung deep.

/Pretty low if you ask me, offing the competition like that./ Troy gritted his teeth, anger swelling up in him. Odie had not dealt with Tyreen meddling in every aspect of his life. The other worthless cultists competing for the affections of Nekia, Morgana, and Charon wouldn’t have been able to make them happy…

Only him, no one else.

As Troy glanced over the railing to view the ongoing LiveScream, his gaze fell on Helen who was assisting Tyreen hold a prisoner. The bandit flailed in place as Helen plunged a ceremonial dagger into their chest, giving a few tugs to break the ribcage, priests grabbing the edges and ripping it away. Helen stuck her hand into screaming bandit’s body, tearing out a beating heart, presenting it to Tyreen who eagerly grabbed it. 

The purple glow bathing the area casted an ethereal light on Helen, Troy fixated on her. 

Bloody.

Violent.

Feral.

Only a sight few could see up close. Odie didn’t deserve to be part of it. Troy left the Cathedral, intent to get rid of the man.

To get rid of the competition.

It didn’t take long before Odie landed on hot water for fighting Donovan, delivering the perfect opportunity for Troy to make his case with Tyreen: Exile for Odie. The general was highly regarded by the God Queen, his counsel sought when dealing with bandit clans – forcing a decision like that had to be carefully crafted. 

Stubborn, Tyreen shrugged off the fights between Donovan and Odie. Troy brought up the potential action of Odie’s own entourage seeking Donovan out to get revenge for their general. That didn’t dissuade Tyreen, stating that if Troy’s right-hand man died, he was weak. After a lot of back and forth, Troy won, convincing her that Odie’s antagonist behavior was detrimental among the main CoV hub’s generals, throwing Pip, Moksha, and Basil under the bus. 

“You’ve been given several chances to correct your behavior, Odie,” Tyreen said, staring down at the man from her throne, “But at a crucial time for our cult, I have no choice but to order you on exile.”

Odie knelt before Tyreen, “If that pleases you, my God Queen, then I shall take my leave until you summon me again.”

Tyreen was visibly annoyed at the development, “You are still under my favor, Odie. However, I cannot let anymore transgressions against Donovan. Basil will give you the location of outpost you are to look after.”

“Yes, my God Queen,” Odie replied, standing up, keeping his head low. Troy smirked from his spot next to Tyreen, Odie briefly meet his gaze. The general bowed again, turning on his heel and departing the throne room, his entourage following him.

“…Did we really needed to exile him?” Tyreen asked Troy, not looking at him, but frowning as the Badass Psychos closed the doors, Odie disappearing behind them. 

“Its for the best, Ty. We can’t have the generals picking fights with each other,” Troy said, buttering the situation more, “Could be worse, Donovan might have been killed, imagine the riots.”

Lies. All lies.

Tyreen groaned, “I guess… At least Odie will be busy elsewhere.”

His competition was gone.

\--------0000000000---------

By luck, no one was around to bother him, and that’s how Troy wanted it. He had been finding himself visiting this location too many times, sometimes you’d be around, other times he’d find Jackal.

Helen’s grave.

The wet stone and soil were clear signs you had visited the fallen psycho priestess’s resting place, the crystallized skull of Donovan now a fixated part of the tombstone with the purple hyacinths’ roots anchoring on the tombstone. The Calypso remembered seeing you camp out the first few days, just to make sure no one would steal the skull. Few of those nights, he’d stay around, keeping watch. 

He recalled hearing you cry, angry at yourself, lamenting that **you** should be the one rotting away somewhere in the wastes, even questioning yourself why you kept going on. 

But the comment that always stuck to him was the one you would utter every single time:

_“How does freedom feel, Helen?”_

/She feels caged. Trapped. I wouldn’t be surprised if she already has an escape plan ready to go./

Tyreen had provided an incentive for you to stay, from what he gathered with his conversation with his sister: Entertain you lest you kill her. 

Troy knew there were other reasons: Perseus and Jackal. You had grown attached to your fellow mechanic and priest. You had threatened Tyreen, and Troy several times, for hurting and attempting to harm Perseus; You had given Jackal the opportunity to kill Donovan. You had them in mind in every decision you made. Troy was aware they helped you out in any schemes you had. 

They had your absolute _trust._

He wanted for you trust him enough to help you out.

“How long are you going to stand there.”

Troy turned to the source of the voice: Jackal. The priest stood by the Cathedral courtyard’s entrance, staring at him, hand on the infamous emerald gun: The Helenite. Even in death, Helen was still around, haunting Troy.

“Long enough for the ground to swallow me up,” Troy replied. The priest approached, but stood away from him. Troy eyed the gun.

“Who made it?” Troy asked. 

“Perseus.”

Perhaps that was a reason Odie never divulged that information of his brother to the Calypsos. If Perseus was able to create powerful guns, there was no telling what else he could create and be seen as a threat to Troy and Tyreen. The tall Calypso bared witnessed to the Helenite’s high damage capacity, Donovan killed instantly, the exit wound completely obliterating the back of the heathen’s skull.

“Why do you keep coming around,” Jackal said, his voice void of familiarity, “What makes you think you are worthy of wallowing about here.”

“…”

**“I should have left you to die years ago.”**

Troy bit his lip, clenching his mechanical fist, his human hand touching his neck. The black collars hid the scarred tissue from the bullet that pierced his throat, mended by Jackal.

“I suppose my biggest mistake ever, aside from joining the cult and allowing Helen to meet you, was saving your and Tyreen’s life.”

“That’s heresy speak there, priest,” Troy spat out, anger oozing out, “I could have you killed.”

“Go ahead.”

Troy growled, looking at Jackal.

“My daughter is gone. My only solace is that if you kill me…. the God Queen’s plaything will never forgive you…” Jackal said, smiling, “And I know how much you would hate that.” Malice and hatred. The priest had grown resentful of the Calypsos.

And was bold enough to spit it out.

“Jackal…”

“Leave her alone, she’s already had enough to deal with,” Jackal growled out, close to snarling.

“This is different…” Troy said, staring down at the priest.

Jackal’s eye twitched, “That’s what you said about Helen and now look at her… SIX FEET DOWN UNDER.”

“Jackal, I-“ Emotions were high.

“YOU PROMISED HELEN EVERYTHING, don’t you fucking lie to my face, Troy!” Jackal shouted, fists clenched, voice cracking, “You weren’t there seeing her cry when you took others to your bed! You didn’t see her cry herself to sleep, BETRAYED by your fucking lies!”

“She refused to let go…” Troy pleaded, “She refused to let go of me…”

“BECAUSE YOU WOULDN’T LET HER,” Jackal yelled, crying, “You always relished the fucking attention she and others gave you but now you are pissy that SOMEONE now sees you for the real piece of shit you are…” Jackal stomped his foot, baring his teeth.

/Save it. I’m sure there’s some cultists around willing to spread their legs for you./

“My daughter is gone… but I’m sure she’s fucking happy seeing you miserable because the God Queen’s plaything refuses to bend to your will,” Jackal hissed out. 

Troy glanced down to the ground, avoiding the priest’s gaze. The truth behind his words stung deeply.

“Every day… every day I wished I could have done something… she didn’t deserve what happened to her,” Troy said, throat tightening, “And I will carry that with me, I have never forgotten her, Jackal… I never forgot Helen.”

And you didn’t either. 

“I wish I had been the one to kill Donovan… but the mechanic was right,” Troy said, looking up at Jackal, “I wasn’t worthy of it. I wasn’t worthy of delivering judgment in her name.”

Jackal glared at Troy, sobbing.

**_“It was rightfully yours.”_ **

Jackal broke down, covering his face with one hand. The priest stumbled over to his daughter’s grave, kneeling, crying. Troy wanted to continue talking to him, but Jackal had already spoken his mind.

Sighing, Troy made his way into the Cathedral, stopping in his tracks when he saw you by the courtyard’s entrance to the building. You stared at him, surprise evident in your eyes.

You had seen and heard the entire thing.

“H-Hey…” Troy said, snapping you out of your thoughts. You jumped, quickly going into the Cathedral.

“W-Wait!” Troy called out, following you inside.

\-------0000000---------

She didn’t question Odie’s absence, at least to Troy.

Helen, unlike the others, was not ‘charmed’ by his words, having known Troy since they were teens. She could read him like an open book, always on the lookout for any attempts by the Calypso to flirt with her. During the executions rolled out by Troy, Helen would be the one delivering the final blows to the prisoners, the man ecstatic seeing her work, sometimes goading her to go all out. Hesitant, the priestess wouldn’t follow through, but would eventually cave into Troy’s desires.

Jackal, by his part, was conflicted with Troy’s attention now on his daughter, knowing too well the fates of the Calypso’s previous lovers.

Receiving the **mercy** of the God Queen.

The priestess remained at arm’s reach, never giving Troy any special attention aside from her duties. Days and nights were filled with visits by Troy, mindlessly chatting about their day or reminiscing about the crazy antics they’d get in at the El Capitan’s bandit camp, enjoying a drink or two with Jackal and then the Calypso would leave. Then he’d be gone for a while, either due to raids or checking out the outposts, later coming back to Helen. 

“Hey, I made you these,” Troy said, holding out a black box with his insignia on it, “I think they’ll come in handy better than those regular ceremonial daggers you priests have.” Both were in Jackal and Helen’s study room. 

The priestess raised an eyebrow, “I think the ones I use are fine to do the job.” She got up from her seat, approaching him. Troy rolled his eyes, opening the box.

“Just check them out, okay?” he said, showing her the contents. Helen’s eyes widen as she reached inside, pulling out a pair of ceremonial daggers with an intricate snake engraving on the hilts, blades sharp and curved. 

Troy’s emblems.

“Wow… Uh..” Helen was stumped as she observed the details, marveling at the craftsmanship, “These… are impressive…”

“Pft, of course they are, I made them,” Troy joked, chuckling as he closed the box, “They’re yours to keep.”

“….Thank you..” Helen was timid in her thanks but bowed in gratitude. She felt Troy’s human hand under her chin, tilting her head up, her gaze meeting the Calypso’s soft blue eyes. Entranced by them, she wondered if it was worth giving in to him. Her mind was set once Troy’s lips met hers. Helen didn’t pull away, Troy deepening the kiss. 

Troy didn’t leave the study that night.

\--------000000000--------

Troy barged inside Cathedral, his eyes roaming around for your presence. He heard a door close and snap shut by the corner of the main hall. A priest mingled by the center altar, cleaning the surface of blood, the charred remains of a psycho underneath it. Troy approached them, intent in asking about your whereabouts.

The priest kept cleaning, briefly pausing to point at the confessional booth hidden on the side of the pews. Troy nodded, making his way over there. One of the doors to the confessional was slightly ajar, the other door closed shut.

You were in there.

Troy opened the door, grateful he was able to fit. He closed the door behind him, locking it. As he got comfortable in his spot, he heard shuffling from the other side. 

“I’m here to confess my sins,” Troy whispered, “I wish to be absolved of them…”

The screen opened, but no words were exchanged from you. Troy took this as a sign to speak.

“I have sinned. Deeply. I’ve hurt many,” Troy said, pressing his forehead against the booth’s wall, “Took many for granted, betrayed their trust… My silence costing the life of one of the woman I loved.”

**Loved.**

“Of all those I loved.”

_Loved._

“My weakness…? Probably that I love too much,” Troy continued, “Or try, I’m horrible at it. I grew used to my sister taking _them_ away that I was afraid to get attached… but I did either way… and I kept replacing them to fill the void their predecessors would leave behind.” 

No response from you.

“I… I’m afraid. That its going to repeat itself, my silence once again destroying something…” Troy said, “…destroying someone’s trust. One was destroyed with an old friend…”

He heard you tapping on something.

“I want to be worthy… worthy of a chance,” Troy whispered, placing his hand on the booth’s wall, “T-That’s all I’m asking.”

A **second** chance.

“Do you remember their names?”

Troy contained his fear, finally hearing your voice. 

“I never forgot them,” Troy replied. He never did. Even as he took revenge on Tyreen by killing several of her playthings out of anger.

“Tell me their names. All of them.”

You were torturing him. Many memories buried layer by layer in his mind. He leaned back on the booth’s seat, rubbing his face with his human hand, taking a deep breath.

“Their names were…” Troy whispered, continuing in a low voice, his throat hurting, mind screaming. Every name rolled out of his tongue, followed by a tiny sob or hiccup. He would mention a ‘quirk,’ an affectionate but odd nickname, or how one of them attempted to lift his detached mechanical arm by themselves. Chuckling at some embarrassing memories, he kept going, bracing himself for the waves of emotions hitting him hard: Mentioning some of the jokes Mikhail would tell him; several fight moves he learned from Nekia; describing the planets he wanted to visit with Morgana; the body mods Charon would create for him; and headaches he and Helen would give Jackal when they were teens. 

You did not speak during his trip down hurtful memory lane. 

It took a while for Troy to realize he had been crying, his eyes stinging. 

“I…I sometimes pretended they were elsewhere… having moved on,” Troy said, “Lying to myself that they weren’t dead…” Until Helen was killed in front of him. That had been the final straw for him alongside Tyreen beating you.

Pushing him on edge. 

“So, they are dead.”

The statement sounded as if you were confirming it to yourself, rather than asking him. Troy sniffed, wiping his tears, shaking his head. He didn’t react when you opened the door on your side, stepping out of the confessional booth. Troy gripped on the fabric of his jacket, biting his lip, keeping his tears at bay. 

He straightened up when he heard the door to his side rattle.

“Open the door.” 

You were still here in the Cathedral. Troy reached out, unlocking the door. Slowly, you opened it, staring down at his pathetic, crying self. He didn’t feel ashamed at his present state. You had seen him cry before when you were recovering in the infirmary, although your reaction was more of disgust than concern at that time.

“Lean forward,” you said, beckoning him. He blinked, unsure, but complied, a soft gasp escaping his lips when he left a soft cloth on his cheeks. You were cleaning his face, drying up the tears, gently. He instinctively leaned to the touch, closing his eyes, a few more tears rolling out. 

“You’re lucky that the priest left,” you mused, rubbing your thumb on Troy’s cheek through the cloth, “Otherwise, it’d be unbecoming of the cultists seeing a Twin God crying in public, right?” Troy smiled, nodding, crying more. 

Were you worried for him?

He opened his eyes, looking up at you. Your expression was neutral, but he noticed your shoulders were relaxed. You were about to pull away, but he grabbed your hand, keeping it on his cheek, though removing the cloth.

Your hand felt warm, his hand squeezing yours a bit. He remembered holding on to it while you were recovering from surgery, feeding you energy little by little. 

“You’ll be fine now?” you asked.

“Y-Yeah…” Troy replied, letting go of your hand. You stepped aside, allowing him access to leave the booth. He looked down at you, his question gnawing on his mind.

“If you are wondering about me and Tyreen, its true,” you said, seeing him tense up, “Don’t worry about whatever arrangements I have with her.” He placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Tyreen… she’s unpredictable…” Troy said, “Believe me… it was hard for me to understand she liked someone, she was never used to having someone… ‘reject’ her so to speak.”

“I can tell,” you looked away, touching your scar on your collarbone. The constant reminder of what Tyreen did to you. A constant reminder for Tyreen of her major screw-up with you and Troy. She had begged on knees for you to forgive her and for another ‘chance’ with you. 

She even accepted your ridiculous condition. 

“….Are you mad at me?” Troy asked, timidly. He felt like a little child. 

You snorted, shrugging, “I should be asking that question to you. You didn’t even talk to me at all since the arena fight and when you did, you yelled at me.” 

“….”

“Still about the surveillance doctored feed and me communicating with Master, right?” you shook your head, “I already told you it was one time, that’s it. Haven’t done nothing else.”

“I want to be worthy of your trust,” Troy whispered, lifting your chin up, facing him, “I-I was upset you didn’t trust me with the information about Donovan.”

“Right,” you muttered, averting your gaze, “I should trust the guy who, alongside his sister, captured me from my own little bandit camp…” Troy sighed.

“….I know its ridiculous, but you’ve been involved with the recent raids, Trinity and the serum, and now this Vault… At least a certain degree of trust?” Troy commented, tracing your jawline, “I’m not asking… for the same trust you have for Jackal and Perseus…”

He knew he had to earn that special kind of trust.

“I suppose you’re right,” you muttered, shuddering when his fingertip traced from your jaw, neck, and to the scar on your collarbone. 

“…I want to show you something…” Troy pulled away, satisfied with your reaction, “Meet me here later?”

“Hm? Show me something…?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Y-Yeah…It’s nothing weird, I promise,” Troy straightened up, more at ease, “And once you see the item, its up to you if you want to keep it.”

“Keep it? Okay…” you replied, eyeing him suspiciously, “Sundown...?”

“Yeah, sounds good, at sundown,” Troy grinned, his sharp teeth showing through. He didn’t want to celebrate too early, but with the way you were acting around him, calmer, was a good sign. You nodded, patting him on the arm before leaving the Cathedral via the courtyard. He watched you leave, anxious. 

He hoped you’d give him a chance.

/I won’t interfere if you decide to pursue her./

He hoped for that as well.

\-------000000000-------

Troy felt more relaxed than ever, unnerving him at times. Tyreen hadn’t picked up on his relationship with Helen or was waiting to strike, he wasn’t sure. His visits to the Cathedral were half business, half pleasure. Helen, a high priestess in the CoV, held an important role and it was no coincidence he’d be around her. Jackal, looking out for Helen, would sometimes tag along with the lovebirds to provide a smokescreen against nosy cultists. The priests, having been involved with Troy’s previous lovers’ fate, did not interfere, turning a blind eye. 

Out of pity? No one knows. Devotion to Troy? Maybe. Devotion to Helen, who looked out for them? Perhaps.

The siblings that once quarreled constantly were once again on speaking terms. Tyreen made no comment about Troy’s change, at least to his face, or didn’t care. Helen and Troy carried on their CoV duties normally, once in a while, indulging themselves whenever possible. The priestess grew more aggressive in her handling of prisoners at Troy’s behest, eventually gaining favoritism with Tyreen, when passing out judgment on LiveScreams. Troy would replay the streams, all to see Helen’s handiwork using the daggers he gifted her. The priestess’s devotion to her lover grew more and more each day, the Calypso’s satisfaction at keeping his relationship secret but open at the same time giving him a high.

They were playing with fire, an intense burning fire. And they loved it, the rush. 

“You think she’ll find out about us?” Helen asked, resting her head on Troy’s chest, tracing his tattoos with her finger. Troy shuddered at her touch, grabbing her hand. They were in a secret alcove in the Cathedral, far away from any priest activity.

“She’s had plenty of opportunities to rat me out,” Troy said, kissing her forehead, “I actually have a little plan to get her distracted.”

“Distracted?” Helen looked up at him, “Unless you have a giant stash of Vault monsters hidden around, I doubt she’d lose her focus.”

“Playthings,” Troy said, grinning. 

“…Playthings..?” Helen asked, slowly, “What?”

“She doesn’t like other bandits to have bedwarmers… why not give her a toy to get distracted?” Troy said, chuckling darkly, “We’ve gone through several raids and some bandits.. you know..”

Helen narrowed her eyes, “I don’t know, you tell me?” She huffed, looking away. Troy sighed, embracing her closer.

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean,” Troy whispered, “Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like what?” Helen countered, “You ogling others? Ugh, seriously, it was bad enough dealing with your other lov-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Troy said, low. Helen pushed off the blankets, getting away from Troy’s grip and standing up from the bed.

“I need to freshen up,” Helen said, angry, going into the bathroom, slamming the door. Troy leaned back on his pillows, growling, smacking the bed a few times in frustration. Helen reemerged from the bathroom, dressed up.

“I have to go,” she said, not sparing Troy a glance, leaving the alcove in a rush. 

“Helen-! Damnit...” Troy rubbed his forehead.

He couldn’t jeopardize this. She wasn’t taken away from him. 

And it stayed that way. 

After the small fight, Helen was back with him again, but the sting of jealousy was there. Troy had explained to her that it was merely an off-comment, the priestess wishing not to hear more of it. So, they kept it that way, Troy’s attention switching to his grand ‘plan.’

Taking the opportunity during a meeting, Troy talked about a potential LiveScream series.

“Let’s Flay: The Plaything Series,” Troy announced, mimicking a whooping crowd, “Ta-da!”

“A what now?” Donovan asked, “Another Let’s Flay?”

“We’ve had steady numbers with our current lineup…” Mouthpiece said. 

“Yeah, yeah! Think about it, we need to strive to give our followers new content!” Troy said, gesturing for Basil to bring in a hologram of the CoV’s current streaming lineup, “Having willing bandits killing each other for shits and giggles isn’t going to cut it anymore! Our viewers want DRAMA!”

“And how do you propose this…’plaything,’” Tyreen said, crossing her arms.

“Well, we don’t have to do much, really,” Troy laughed, “We got the arena, we got the goods, all we need are the participants: Raid spoils! We each get to pick someone or a group from raids to play in our honor, have them duke it out in the arena, and watch the viewership numbers skyrocket!”

“Drama…?” Donovan asked, “What do you mean by drama…?” The right-hand general sounded disgusted by the premise. 

“You know, rivalry, who’s side would win, pitting one general’s playthings against the others,” Troy explained, Basil bringing in mock renderings of the arena with bandits.

“Hmm….” Tyreen pondered, placing a fingertip on her chin, “Anybody from raids?”

“Yeah!” Troy said, too excited, “We’ve dealt with some strong people, you could use them to be your playthings, its all up to you!”

“Anybody…” Tyreen whispered, looking convinced, “Yeah… I think I like the sound of that..”

“Open participation for everyone? Or just in the hub?” Moksha asked, “I’m sure the other generals from Pandora would really like this.”

“For now, we test it out here in the hub and then expand it!” Troy continued, rubbing his hands together, “So, what you all say? Yes, no? Yes, yes?”

“I could care less,” Pip said, lighting up a cigarette, “I won’t have time to deal with a little mongrel with the amount of injuries these damn psychos get into.”

“Count me in!” Moksha said, “I’m excited to see what we can get from the raids!”

“May participate on several occasions considering I have to maintain the arena,” Basil gestured at the hologram of the arena.

Mouthpiece merely shrugged, “I’m busy modding the LiveScreams or doing the announcements, so a ‘no’ for me in participating, but I give a ‘yes’ to this series.”

“You can go ahead with it, but I’m not participating,” Donovan said, looking away, upset, “I don’t want to deal with weaklings.”

Troy went over to his general, wrapping his arm around neck, “Oh, come on, Don! Don’t be like that! We got the whole fucking galaxy in the palm of our hands, have some fun!”

Donovan gave a curt answer,” No.”

“Pft, suit yourself then!” Troy cackled, then went over to Tyreen, “So, Ty? You in?”

Tyreen grinned back, “Oh, fuck yeah I’m in, can’t wait to see some action in the arena!” She jabbed her finger on Troy’s chest, “The playthings I obtain will wipe the floor with yours!”

**His.**

He hadn’t thought much about getting any ‘playthings’ himself lest he wanted to get on Helen’s angry side. She was still upset from the comment he made.

“Ehehe, I’m gonna get the meanest shits out there, just you wait!” Troy taunted back, giving Tyreen a light punch on her arm. 

“You’re on!” Tyreen said, punching him back. 

The new Let’s Flay series was teased on the EchoNet, many of the CoV followers voicing their interest and storming up ideas as to what the new content would entail. As the cultists teemed with excitement, the Calypsos and their generals went on with their raids in Promethea, capturing and dividing the ‘bandit’ spoils, goading their ‘playthings’ to train, and giving them certain ‘luxuries’ not given to prisoners.

All in all, the plaything idea did its charm with a Calypso.

Tyreen.

Troy watched with amusement as Tyreen cooed at her plaything who was currently hiding behind her throne, terrified of the God Queen. The man, a recent raid spoil, caught Tyreen’s eye, the Siren Calypso immediately doting on the plaything and showering him with gifts. The plaything could not stop shaking, yelping at any instance when Tyreen would get close.

“Heheh… I love them when they are terrified,” Tyreen whispered, inching close to her plaything, “I haven’t seen you get a plaything, Troy.” She cornered the man, laughing as the plaything screamed. 

Troy snickered, “Haven’t found anything good during these recent raids, and if I did, someone else took them, boo.” Half lie. He couldn’t afford pissing off Helen now that things between them were better than before. 

Tyreen yanked the plaything from his hiding place, dragging him over to pet him on the head, “Well, I was lucky to find this one, right little pooch?” The man squirmed under her grasp, shaking. 

“You’re gonna scare the actual shit out of him,” Troy laughed, waving off at her, “Have fun with your little ‘pooch,’ pft!” Tyreen stuck her tongue out at Troy, then flipped him off before giving her undivided attention to her plaything.

Troy was satisfied with how his plan went: getting Tyreen distracted with someone. Not a bedwarmer, maybe, the rules weren’t clear on that, but at least she was not on Troy’s case anymore. 

That meant more liberty with Helen. 

“Hm, I’m surprised you don’t have someone clinging to you or on a leash,” Helen said, forceful, “Oh, wait, that’s Tyreen, right?”

“Helen… we already talked about this, I’m not getting playthings,” Troy insisted, getting exhausted from the arguments, “Tyreen is distracted now with her little toy, she won’t be nosy with us.”

Helen’s intense gaze softened, “…You think she suspects?” Troy approached her, hugging and kissing the top of her head.

“I don’t think so, that’s good news for us,” Troy whispered, feeling Helen hug back, “That’s why I pushed on this series, everyone else will be preoccupied with the playthings.”

Helen looked up at him, smiling, “I suppose I was harsh initially… I’m sorry…”

Troy chuckled, brushing a strand of hair off her face, “I’m sorry too, putting you on the spot with the plaything stuff. But now, we don’t have to worry about anything, not even Tyreen.”

“Yeah…” Helen said, playing with the fluff on Troy’s jacket, “Want to celebrate your success?” Troy smirked, crushing his lips against Helen’s.

A well-deserved celebration.

\--------00000000--------

After checking up on Jackal at the courtyard, you ventured back to your hut to rest before meeting up with Troy later at night. You were still processing the information that Troy revealed about his past lovers including Helen. 

From the ruthless, bloodthirsty Calypsos you first met a year and half ago, they had shown their ‘true’ emotional colors to you. Tyreen seemed desperate, yearning for affection, completely fixated on you. She had ‘confessed’ she loved you despite not knowing a lot more about you, but did voice she wanted to fix that. She probably saw your relationship condition as a little game.

Troy, the more emotional of the two, had a string of bad luck of never been able to keep someone due to Tyreen’s interference. Helen had told you his ‘ferocious’ persona was a ‘part’ of him, not his complete person, being calmer and more affectionate in private, something that you had experienced when you first arrived. He didn’t treat you as a fragile doll, at most, he seemed more than ‘happy’ to know someone who shared the same love with mechanic and robotics work while being a fighter.

Sighing, you made a mental note to speak to Jackal and Perseus, before making a move. With the Calypsos now having the information about the Vault of Power, there was no telling what they’d do to you. Glancing up, you stared at a surveillance camera.

Was Cetus watching you right now?

If he kept tabs on you and was still communicating with the Calypsos, would Tyreen spill that he longer had a place in your heart? As a way to taunt him back? You shook your head, walking to your hut.

Your hand missed the door knob as the door opened, causing you to stumble forward into someone.

“Oof!” you yelped, grabbing onto the person. 

“W-Woah! Easy there! I know we just upgraded and all, but no need to be so straightforward, Andromeda,” Tyreen cooed, giggling as she helped you up. You rubbed your face since you landed on her chest. 

“Hello to you too, Tyreen,” you muttered, straightening up, “Ow…”

“My chest isn’t that hard, you know that,” Tyreen said, closing the door, ushering you forward, “Been waiting for you, I brought you something!” She skipped over to the dining table, clapping, eager.

You wanted to make a comment about the metal buttons on her vest, but your eyes fell on a small bag on the center of your dining table and a box next to it. 

“For me..?” you asked, approaching her. Tyreen nodded, smiling. She grabbed your hand, using her other hand to take out an item from the bag.

A new utility belt to use at the warehouse. 

“I got you a new one, I saw the one you have was extremely torn, worn out and well… Yeah…” Tyreen said, blushing, “I-Its made of armored skag skin! So it will be durable!” She let go of your hand, picking the belt up, showing you the pouches, pockets, and clasps.

“Double stitching, criss-crossed though, better grip, so it won’t tear! I-I uh, also had some sheathes made… for the daggers..” Tyreen whispered the last part, extending the belt out to you, “H-Here..” You grabbed the belt, inspecting it, impressed.

Unclasping the lock, you placed it around your waist, adjusting the clasp to your size. Tyreen watched you as you jumped, moved from side to side and squatted, baffled. She only ever carried few items and a digistructor unlike your vast array of instruments. 

“Oh..?” Tyreen tilted her head, “H-How does it feel?”

You patted the belt, turning to face her, “Fits perfectly, thanks.” You grinned at her. Tyreen clapped, blushing more.

“I-I’m glad you liked it…! Looks g-good on you…” the Siren Calypso fumbled with her words, nervous, “I-I also brought you dessert…” She took out two slices of cake from the box. You stared at the cake slices.

The same dessert served to you when you first arrived with the Children of the Vault. 

“What’s wrong?” Tyreen asked, worried.

“Oh, nothing, I’m just… it’s been a while, never had any sweets aside from the military rations,” you replied, remembering the savory, spongy texture of the dessert. Even with the Calypsos during your recovery, Pip still had you on a soft food diet.

“Ah, true, well, I’ll bring you some once in a while!” Tyreen ventured over to your little kitchen, grabbing plates and forks. You removed the belt, tossing it over your couch and made yourself comfortable on a chair by the small dining table. Tyreen came back, serving you a slice and keeping the other one, sitting down. You poked at the fruit several times before munching on it, an explosion of flavor filling your mouth.

“Wow…” you mumbled, content, taking another bite from the cake slice, “Spongy…”

“Hehe, the fruit is from my garden, sweet and tart,” Tyreen said, taking a bite from her slice, “Goes well with toast and sweet bread.” You nodded, lost in the flavor. Small things like these made you forget about your current situation, living out on the wastes, and dealing with two insufferable Calypsos.

Speaking of Calypsos…

“I saw Troy today,” you said, setting your fork down, “At the Cathedral…”

Tyreen glanced up, mid-bite, “You did..? Was he angry?”

You shook your head, “No, surprisingly. Said he wanted to meet up later, wanted to show me something.”

“Oh, are you going?” Tyreen asked, finishing her slice. 

You shrugged, poking the last bits of your cake, “Might as well, no? He probably wants to talk…” Tyreen ‘hmmed,’ licking the last bits of frosting from the fork.

“…He told me about his previous lovers,” you whispered, observing Tyreen for a reaction. She paused, putting down her fork. She avoided your stare.

“About how you… ‘took’ them away,” you elaborated, leaning back on the chair, “He didn’t go further into detail about that, only told me about who they were and all, including Helen.” You wanted to hear from her that they were dead.

“He did, huh…” Tyreen muttered mostly to herself, “I know my brother likes you… Haven’t been a good sister to him…”

“You and I will have a talk about that,” you said sternly, not wanting any surprises between the twins, “And no lies or hiding details from me.”

“..Understood,” Tyreen said, nodding, lips thin. Karma was catching up.

“Very well, then,” you got up, grabbing the plates and forks, “I’ll tidy up here and take a quick shower, I forgot how stuffy it is in the warehouse.” 

“L-Let me take care of that, I’ll do it!” Tyreen insisted, grabbing the items from you, “You go do what you gotta do!” You raised an eyebrow at her change in behavior, letting it slide at the moment. 

“Uh, sure, alright, thanks,” you said, heading towards your bedroom.

“Andromeda…”

You stopped by the doorway, looking back at Tyreen, “Yeah?”

“…May I spend the night here with you?” Tyreen asked, nervous. Perseus reminded her to always ask for permission on anything that might make you uncomfortable. In the ‘old’ days, she’d just barge in and not care if you were infuriated with her presence. 

“Sure, though don’t wait up on me if I get back here late after meeting with Troy,” you replied before disappearing into your bedroom. Tyreen grinned, fist pumping in victory. She startled herself when the plates almost fell out of her grasp.

One thing at a time, Tyreen! she thought.

\-------0000000---------

Things went immediately south for Troy.

Freaking out when Tyreen questioned him why he didn’t have a plaything months after pushing for the Let’s Flay series, Troy went to get one – biggest mistake. Slightly horrified, he eyed the bloody mess in his room, guts and limbs strewn about on the ground, stench strong. He had left a plaything in there, coming back a flesh explosion.

“Fucking shit…” Troy said, stepping further into his room, “Fuck… Fuck…!” He covered his mouth, finding the decapitated head of the plaything neatly placed between his large, now red, pillows. The bathroom door opened, Helen emerging.

The culprit.

“What did you do, Helen?!” Troy demanded, furious, “I told you not to come into my room!!!”

Helen glared at him, “Of course, because you had your little whore in here, right?! You thought I wouldn’t notice?!” Troy went to grab her arm, snarling.

“Tyreen was on my case, I had to get one to provide a smokescreen!” Troy yelled, “You screwed shit up!”

“You lied to me!” Helen yelled back, angry, “You fucking lied to me! You told me you weren’t getting a plaything!”

“Helen-!” Troy snarled, “God damnit it all!” He pushed her off, clenching his fists. Helen, agitated, stormed off, but gasped as she opened the door. Troy turned around, eyes wide.

Tyreen was caught reaching for the door knob, shock visible on her face, “What… What is going? Helen? What are you- Holy shit…” She took in the mess, then looked at Helen and Troy.

“What the fuck…” Tyreen whispered, her new plaything nearby, curious but visibly ill after looking inside the room, “What the fuck is going on in here…?”

“T-Ty! Nothing! I just got carried away with my plaything, ehehe…” Troy said, nervous. Tyreen narrowed her eyes at him.

“You aren’t covered in blood… Helen is…” Tyreen hissed out, “Helen.”

“…..” Helen looked away, nervous as well, “I…”

Tyreen noticed the ceremonial dagger the priestess was holding, catching a glimpse of the snake sigil, realization dawning on her, “Oh…”

“Tyreen, I can explain!” Troy said, getting in front of Helen, “P-Please just listen!”

“Oh, I’m listening, Troy,” Tyreen said, voice flat, “I’m listening as to how you kept your little bedwarmer a secret from me…”

“She’s not a bedwarmer!” Troy shouted, still shielding Helen, “You better not lay a finger on her!” Tyreen glared back at him, eye twitching.

“Does Jackal know, Helen?” Tyreen asked, ignoring Troy.

“Tyreen-“

“Does Jackal know, Helen?” Tyreen repeated again, voice louder. Helen stepped aside, still looking down.

“Y-Yes… my God Queen….” Helen replied, gulping. Her current demeanor clashed with her bloody appearance. Tyreen, still addressing the priestess, gave her a chilling statement.

“Tell him my debt towards him saving Troy’s life is repaid… No more chances for Troy,” Tyreen said, glancing at Troy, “Keep your fucking bedwarmer out of my sight.” She looked at them in disgust, then dragged her plaything out, leaving the duo alone.

“….Did she spare you…?” Troy asked out loud, not believing what transpired. Helen didn’t respond, instead shoving past Troy, running out of the room.

“H-Helen-!” the Calypso called out, following her but missing her, “D-Damnit…” New emotions hit Troy, anxiety, anger, fear. His body went numb when Tyreen saw Helen in his room, memories of his previous lovers being dragged away resurfaced. He couldn’t lose Helen. She had been spared. 

“Fuck!” Troy shouted, covering his face, “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!”

Things were never the same with Helen. The stress of Tyreen being aware of her relationship with Troy deteriorated her mind, her jealousy fits increasing as Troy sought to keep face with the cultists by getting playthings. For him, he started to take his frustration out with the playthings he’d get and then enticing Tyreen’s playthings to bed, further angering Helen. Absolute chaos. Absolute decay of love.

Eventually, Helen would kill Tyreen’s playthings, the ones who slept with Troy, obtaining Tyreen’s attention and hate. A triad of misery.

Helen’s position somewhat shielded her from punishment, the Calypsos wary of inciting a riot within the cultists for the high priestess. As such, Tyreen had to deal with utter disdain for the woman, verbally reminding Helen how much she disliked the priestess. Troy, unwittingly, held on to Helen, fighting with her constantly, coming back to her, fighting again, leaving.

Fight.

Leave.

Reconcile. 

**A toxic cycle.**

She wasn’t sent away. Troy held on to her. She wasn’t sent away. Troy held on to her.

Desperation? There was no love left. Attachment? Abandonment. 

A numbing sensation took over.

Wait, that was a punch on his face.

“You fucking bitch!” Troy hissed out, returning the punch, the bandit thrown back. The Calypso inhaled deeply, feeling high voltage electricity coursing through his body, shoulder and chest impaled by rods from a Hyperion bot. The bandit got up, wiping blood of her face, snarling before rushing over to him, punching him over and over again.

“Asshole!” she shouted, delivering another punch across his jaw, “You fucking prick!”

Red. Troy glared at the bandit, growling, but his body refusing to respond. He became the bandit’s punching bag, managing to get free when the woman got distracted by Tyreen’s arrival. The tide of the fight turned over, Troy and Tyreen wiping out the Skullmasher’s camp, with his sister taking the bandit as a raid spoil.

A plaything.

Another toy for Troy to rip apart to piss off Tyreen. 

His mind was set to destroy.

Troy was having the time of his life by taunting and goading you every second he could. The look of irritation and anger got him pumped up, thinking of ways to get you to break off and screw Tyreen over. But he was meeting resistance. No matter how many times he pushed your buttons, you never gave into to him as the other playthings.

For once, he was stumped. 

Tyreen treated her playthings like shit, any ounce of kindness from his part to them immediately had them eating from his hand and – BAM! – he’d kill them to spite her. 

You weren’t bending your will to him.

“Don’t you have anything else to do besides waste my time?” you asked him, holding a box of screws and bolts. Before Troy could respond, you shoved past him, heading towards a technical that had its hood lifted. You busied yourself, leaving Troy standing by your workbench.

“I do have many things to do, you know?” Troy said, trying to salvage his ego, “I’m a big shot around here, don’t you remember our fight?”

“….” You began working on the technical.

Troy growled, “Hel-lo?!”

You blinked, then glanced at him, “You said something?” Troy smacked his face, rubbing it.

“Get lost, I need to finish servicing this technical,” you muttered, working on the engine of the technical, “Unlike you, I have shit to do.” Troy had a look of shock, then a grin replaced it. He tiptoed over to you, snaking his arms around your waist, leaning forward to – 

A small knife was immediately at the edge of his chin, your glare directed up at him. 

“Back. Off,” you hissed out. Troy licked his lips, chuckling, “Damn, that’s hot.”

It was and the bulge in his pants agreed as well.

Troy enjoyed a challenge. 

He would be lying if he said he didn’t find you attractive. His first impression of you was not great, you were only a passing glimpse in a sea of bandits he needed to kill at the Skullmashers’ camp, but after coming out alive and you beating the shit out of him, his perception changed.

Especially after you debut in the arena of the revived Let’s Flay: The Plaything Series.

He had expected for you to die in the first minute or so like all previous playthings of Tyreen, but to his surprise, as well as Tyreen and others, you wiped the competition, taking on a Goliath and a Badass Psycho while wrecking the arena in the process. Troy hadn’t experienced such extreme arousal in seeing someone pulverize and dominate their enemies. You emerged from the fight unscathed and victorious, giving Troy and Tyreen a rush. 

He and his sister indulged themselves with you, getting a taste of your blood and _skin_ in the medical room as your prize for winning the Let’s Flay, Troy thinking you’d seek him out later on. 

Nothing. 

You acted as if nothing happened, mostly annoyed whenever he’d brought it up during his late-night warehouse visits.

“You act like that’s the best oral sex I’ve had,” you said, irritated. Troy was downright insulted but didn’t lash out, only amused by your delivery in the statement.

“Well, it’s weird when your own sister is there in the same room, but alone…” Troy said, inching closer to your face, “Oh, you will see this tongue’s true abilities…” He stuck out his forked, long tongue. 

A deadpan expression is all he got.

“Get lost,” you said, busying yourself in the warehouse, “Its enough dealing with your sister.”

Tyreen.

The main reason he was out here trying to get you to wander off and into his bed.

Then kill. 

It had been a few months since you were brought in and yet you remained the same attitude towards him: Ignoring his antics. Troy chalked it up that you were only ignoring him out of spite, but then it dawned on him.

You didn’t care about him.

You didn’t care he was a ‘Twin God.’ Somehow, you viewed him as a regular bandit.

“A nuisance,” you said, washing your hands at the sink after a late-night tune up, “You ruin my concentration every fucking time. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Nope,” Troy mused, leaning forward on the workbench, “What about you? We can go up at the alley… and you know-“ A dagger flew by him, grazing his cheek. Troy laughed, standing up. You weren’t amused. Any other cultists trying to harm him would have been dead, then again, you were Tyreen’s plaything.

“I don’t have time for your shenanigans,” you said, drying your hands off. 

“But I have all the time in the world to cause them,” Troy teased, flashing you a slasher smile. 

You gave him an exasperated look, holding a large wrench in your hand, “I’m about to knock some sense into you with this wrench.”

“Knock me up- Wait, that came out wrong,” Troy automatically said, startling himself. Your expression turned to disgust as you threw the wrench at your work bench, walking away from him. Troy laughed at getting a reaction out of you.

One day, he thought, you’d seek him out.

\-------00000000--------

“New arm attachments?” you pointed at the heavy equipment and gadgets on Troy’s workbench. He poked your forehead, grinning.

“I didn’t bring you here to tune up my arm or anything else. I wanted to show you something,” Troy gestured for you to sit as he went to retrieve something from a safe. You moved from side to side, trying to take a peek. He brought out a small red box, walking back towards you. He was extremely nervous.

“A box?” you asked, your mind racing with various guesses.

“…Its what’s inside the box I wanted to show you,” he paused, contemplating, “I-I worked on it while you were…in the infirmary…” 

“Oh…” you eyed the box, it could fit in your palm. Troy opened it, carefully taking out a small, black, cast, anatomical human heart clipped to a black metal necklace. The veins were glowing faintly red. He held it out to you. 

“For you,” he said, his hand was shaking.

You narrowed your eyes, having scolded him about the gift giving. Helen’s words were still ringing in the back of your head.

“I don’t want-“ Troy sighed, lips thin.

“Just crank the tiny key… please, that’s all I’m asking,” Troy pleaded, placing it on your hand. The detail of the anatomical heart amazed you, the item feeling light in your hands. To pacify him, you cranked it a few times, letting go to watch the heart ‘beat’ as if pumping blood. You were unsure what to expect, but stunned when the heart opened, revealing two indents on the sides.

 **A photo of teenage you and Hephaestus.** He was grinning at the camera.

“You…” You looked up at Troy, gulping. He knelt down, pressing forehead against yours.

“Your brother, right?” he whispered, “I found several photos at the Viper’s camp… a lady named Wilkins had them in a locker… This one.. I found it on Cepheus after the fight. That was the only one with your brother on it.” 

Cassie and Cepheus.

The one who sold you out and the one who robbed you of a peaceful life.

You sobbed, looking down at the photo of your brother. You weren’t able to keep anything when you were taken away, everything left behind, stripped when arriving to your ‘new home’ and landing with Cetus. Although you knew Troy had a photo of your days as a Viper bandit, you never thought he’d have something of your brother – Cepheus, of all people, having it in his possession. 

/There was so much I wanted to talk to you about…. I’m just glad I got to see you one last time…/ A dead man’s last words before you killed Cepheus. 

Troy embraced you, kissing the top of your head as you kept crying. He was caught off guard when you hugged him back, but relaxed. 

“T-Thank you...” you whispered, gripping tight the locket. 

“No problem, Andromeda.”

You pulled back, fresh tears on your face, “H-How did you..?” You didn’t recall him asking or you telling him anything, highly doubting Perseus and Jackal, and even Tyreen, passing the information over. 

Troy chuckled, “The photo had your name smudged off alongside your brother’s, but the indent was there on the paper. A little magic with charcoal powder helped out. I engraved them too, check it out.” You reopened the locket again, seeing the small engravings of your name and Hephaestus hidden in the grooves of the heart.

“H-How long..?” 

“A while, before you were in the infirmary,” Troy said, taking the locket from your hands, unclasping the lock on the necklace and placing it on you. For once, you were speechless.

“I figured I wasn’t going to call you forever ‘mechanic,’ but I wanted to ask you formally for your name… I know things aren’t good between us,” Troy confessed, “Jumped the gun here, huh?”

“Maybe…” you replied, touching the locket. 

“I wanted to give you this, when things were better…” Troy said.

“Better?” you inquired.

“I know you don’t like me… I’m fine with that,” Troy whispered, “I deserve it, for what I put Helen and the others through… I just hoped… maybe…” He shook his head, “It’s gotten complicated.”

“For a second chance,” you said, wiping your tears, hiccupping. 

/I know my brother likes you… Haven’t been a good sister to him. /

“…” Troy clasped his hands together, shyly looking away, “Yes…”

“Everything has been complicated… Even after knowing I was Master’s lover… you still want to?” you asked. The little monster screamed inside your head.

TOO EASY, the little monster yelled, MAKE HIM SUFFER. You pushed those thoughts away. 

“…You compared me with him, I don’t know what he truly did, I’m no saint either,” Troy said, “And I’m sure you don’t see yourself that way either, we’re bandits, having feelings… is not a luxury we can afford…”

“You’re right about that…” you chuckled, standing up, wiping dry tears, “Messy shit.” Troy laughed.

“Yeah..” Troy said, rubbing the back of his head, “….as far as… second chances go…. I won’t bother you on that.. I know you have a lot going on- I mean, yeah… What I’m trying to say is… please think about it..?”

“And what if I say no?” you asked, curious. It was obvious he was jealous of and angry at Tyreen.

“….Then you say ‘no’ I suppose…” Troy said, sounding a bit disappointed, “I’m not… I’m not going to force you on anything… but that doesn’t mean I will let Tyreen harm you.”

Point taken.

Gently touching the necklace, you pondered on his statement. Troy already had a history with others, including Helen, all of them dead because of Tyreen. His own comments when you were recovering at the infirmary of not ‘giving up’ on you contradicted him at the moment. Maybe he was afraid he’d incur Tyreen’s anger once again and she’d hurt you?

“You think she’ll harm me?” you asked, looking up at him, “Like before?”

Troy frowned, “You’re still scared of her.”

Somewhat.

You grinned slightly, “She’s scared of me, too.” 

“She told me… about your condition… to let her be with you- er, ‘close’ to you,” Troy said, perplexed, “You threatened her?” He sounded shocked by your bold move.

“Its only fair after what she put me through,” you replied, small hint of anger in your tone, “If she lets it hang over her every time she’s with me, then so be it.”

Cold.

“True,” Troy agreed, frowning, “Just… Just don’t push it… Not defending her… but she’s still unpredictable…”

“I’m not them, Troy,” you focused your gaze on the arm attachments on Troy’s workbench.

“’Them?’” Troy inquired.

“Helen and the others,” you replied, your hand leaving the locket alone, gently grasping the gear ring. Troy eyed the ring then at you. He hadn’t picked on the ring’s existence till now.

“…I know,” Troy replied, seeing a small smile on your lips. 

“Good,” you said, “The sooner you realized that, the better…. Thanks for the locket. I’ll keep it safe.” Your only reminder of your brother tucked away in it.

Troy returned the smile.

\------000000000-------

“Had your fun yet or does this plaything have some brain cells unlike the others?” Helen said, growling at Troy. He huffed, glancing back at her. 

“You saw her fight,” Troy said, ignoring Helen’s implication, “She’s not like the others. She’s a fighter.”

“Hmph, right, I bet your pissy because Tyreen is now keeping this plaything close by,” the priestess taunted, “Been a while since she picked someone.”

Troy had tried to talk to Helen about their relationship, the woman dodging the question, instead jeering at the Calypso’s failed attempts to get your attention. He left as quickly as he arrived, frustrated with Helen. 

The one who wasn’t taken away. 

Was he being punished for never standing up for Mikhail? Nekia? Morgana? Charon?

To say that the past sometimes haunts people would seem ridiculous to Troy. Sure, he had killed plenty of people, including Tyreen’s playthings, but he didn’t bother much with the feeling of ‘guilt.’ Did he feel guilty going back to Helen over and over again?

He did. He couldn’t let go, his mind screaming to just leave. But Troy always clung to her and in return, she did the same. After you came into the picture, her jealousy intensified, full on display when Helen came into his room instead of Jackal to deliver clothes to you after Tyreen lost a bet at the Harvest grounds.

“Father Troy, you dare soil yourself with this creature?!” Helen shouted, glaring at you through her psycho mask. Annoyed, you stared back at the woman. 

“GET OUT!” Troy ordered, upset, “Before I squash what little patience I have!” Helen disobeyed, instead lunging forward to attack, meeting Troy’s grip and being slammed to the ground, locking her in place.

“Stop it,” you commanded, “Release her. NOW.” Troy smirked, liking this authoritative side of you. All other bandits, playthings, even his lovers held an ounce of fear due to his status as a Twin God.

You didn’t care.

You didn’t care he was a Twin God. You had faced him in the battlefield without an ounce of fear, striking him head on with every fiber of your being. 

**Ready to kill.**

Just like he had from the beginning to anger Tyreen for another loss of a plaything. 

After Helen left, your demeanor changed when he brought up the Vipers and the names found carved on the table in the dining room of the Harvest grounds. No response as expected, quiet, avoiding the subject. Troy was curious, your circumstances of being caught and then a rival bandit clan having history with you were unbelievable, but in his jacket’s pocket he held evidence of such thing. Once again, he tried to get answers, meeting resistance.

Annoyed, he tried to threaten you, getting caught off guard with your **_playful_** behavior and hearing you laugh.

Laughter. 

A foreign action for you.

It was adorable, Troy thought, and weird at the same time. 

You quickly shut up, biting your hand to suppress more laughs, Troy picking up on this odd habit. He didn’t press further on the issue, pulling you close to him, teasing about tearing your organs apart –

Your hands rested on his inner thigh area, pressing down on sensitive parts. 

“Y-You can’t tease me like that..” Troy gasped out, flustered, “I-I.. What?” He whined when you pulled away, watching you get out of the tub, a smirk on your lips.

“That’s for biting me in my inner thigh, still hurts like a bitch you prick,” you said, robed and walking out of the bathroom. 

Plaything: 1 | Troy: 0

Troy chuckled, shaking his head, “Too good to be true… Ha…” He didn’t demand anything sexual, other than for you to help him dry his hair after he took care of his ‘business’ alone. 

To test you out by leaving himself open for attack.

Nothing.

You diligently massaged his head, getting the tense Calyspo to relax under your touch, a feat he thought was impossible with all his current problems. Soon, he ushered you back in bed, embracing you in order to thwart any attempts by you to escape. As you laid asleep in his arms, Troy had forgotten the comfortable feeling of someone’s warmth next to him. Your breathing proved to be soothing for him, easing his nerves. Although Helen had tried to attack you in front of him, he wasn’t afraid, he knew you were capable of defending yourself. He still couldn’t shake the fear slowly creeping up. 

He brushed your hair with his fingers, hearing you sigh and snuggle closer to him. Troy tensed up when your arm wrapped around his chest, your hand touching his back, fingertips slightly kneading at his skin. A sudden urge hit him, Troy kissed the top of your head. He had lost this with Helen. 

**The one who wasn’t sent away.**

Should he be worried? Helen had an unpredictable behavior, having killed other playthings out of jealousy. You were still alive for now.

Very much alive when he woke up to gargled screams and a completely blood drenched you, stabbing a priest with a ceremonial dagger. He was horrified at how calm you were while staring at Troy.

“He had it coming.”

Cold, detached.

Then you flipped.

“W-What..?” your face full of terror as you stepped back from the body, shaking, “Oh fuck…!” That night, a huge can of threshers opened, Troy’s intense curiosity and need to find out about your past getting the best of him, the photo in his jacket burning through the back of his mind. He took care of the priests, unable to find a culprit. His night was almost ruined by Tyreen barging in to pester you, managing to kick her out and get sleep. 

Tyreen’s extreme attachment to you was obvious to Troy. 

He ventured out with you for a joyride, intent in getting answers – and maybe try to kill you - but ended up sidetracked with your comments about escaping, then ruffled when you teased him again provocatively. Were you playing around with him? For shits and giggles? 

That put the Calypso in a good mood. 

For a while that was.

\------0000000000---------

Nighttime arrived when you left Troy’s workshop, the day eventful by your standards. You swung by the bar, hoping to catch Perseus and the other mechanics for a quick drink to drown your emotions before heading back to your hut. There was hardly anyone at the bar when you entered, the bartender informing you the warehouse crew had left. You were already mentally preparing yourself for an earful from Perseus and Jackal once you caught them up on the situation with the Calypsos. 

You strolled the winding streets of the hub, stopping once a in a while to stare at drunk cultists or those who were looking to cause trouble for fun. Not too long ago, you wandered these streets on the lookout for anybody trying to jump you.

Those were gone, just like the masterminds behind them. 

The warm glow of the Cathedral loomed over the main square where rowdy sermons were being held, the occasional Mouthpiece hymn for the Twin Gods full blast on the speakers mounted on the side towers. You never attended a sermon in the Cathedral, only in the smaller church near your housing complex, preferring the less crazy, at times, psychos that would attend in the mornings. 

“So much has changed…” you whispered, eyeing the statues of the Calypsos, “Since I got here.”

Captured.

“Since I was captured,” you corrected yourself, resuming your walk back to your hut. Entering your place, you took off your jacket and boots, content to call it a night. You noticed a pair of extra boots by the entrance.

Tyreen.

“Shoot, I forgot she was staying over… oh well,” you muttered, making your way to the bedroom. As expected, the God Queen herself was in your bed, curled up against the wall, fast asleep. She was wearing her usual purple pajamas you had seen before during the ‘sleepover.’ She hadn’t awoken from her slumber with your entrance, a bit of relief on your part. 

You freshened up in the bathroom and changed to your sleepwear, being careful with the ring and necklace and placing them away in your dresser. Pulling the blankets aside, you made yourself comfortable, your weight shifting the bed, alerting Tyreen.

“…Andromeda..?” Tyreen called out, sleepy. She turned around, struggling to keep her eyes open. 

“No, it’s the Ratch Monster,” you joked, hearing her giggle. 

“Scary…” she mumbled out, moving closer to you, “…Went well…?”

“Yeah,” you replied, patting her on the head, “We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay? Let’s get some sleep….” You wrapped your arms around her, Tyreen nuzzling your chest. With the blankets covering you both up, the warmth soothed your weary body, sleep winning over.

A lot has changed in everyone.

\--------00000000000-----------

After the arena fight with the Viper bandit known as Cepheus, you spiraled out of control. His hunch about your connection with the bandit clan was correct as Cepheus revealed he knew you and ‘trained’ you for survival purposes. That, and the revelation of a mark.

The upside-down triangle shape mark. No one had seen such mark, displayed by you and the bandit as a greeting of sorts. From there, the fight devolved into pure chaos, the bandit chased around the arena by you as you became more vengeful, seeking to kill the man. Troy, nervous, tried in vain to get you to comply with his orders, later seeing you neck-twist Cepheus.

Fear.

A chill of dread. 

Troy was scared of you. 

The amount of hate you showed towards the bandit was terrifying. Sure, you despised Troy and Tyreen, but they had yet to get that same treatment. 

The clincher was when Troy found the crude drawing and an old photo displaying Cepheus, Cassie, a child and unknown adult man with black hair and red eyes from the bandit’s body armor. It wasn’t difficult to see the resemblance of the child with you. 

“Fuck…. You were her father…?” Troy whispered, eyeing the body of the twitching dead bandit. Cold. Detached. Anger. Mixed emotions. After talking to Tyreen, he set off with Basil to the razed Viper camps for clues about the mysterious triangle mark, only finding more photos of forgone days when you were a Viper bandit and various EchoNet records between Cassie and Cepheus regarding fights. 

Underground fights. 

Vipers. Your fighting skills higher than his own. Cepheus. The Terror of the Waste. 

He took all he could back to his private workshop, dissecting the ‘family’ photo, trying to figure out a way to see the other two missing names: yours and the black-haired man. Using a piece of charcoal, he blew dust over it, hoping the dry blood wouldn’t interfere too much on the indentions on the photo paper. 

The last two names revealed:

“Andromeda, Hephaestus.”

Cepheus, Cassie, Andromeda, Hephaestus

“Andromeda…” Troy whispered, “So that’s your name…”

Your name.

He never bothered asking for your name, merely referencing you as ‘mechanic’ or ‘plaything.’ A nothing. A little toy for the God Queen to do what she pleases. It felt odd.

It felt wrong.

Wrong to Troy. Now with knowledge.

He never bothered to remember the names of the playthings he’d kill, resorting to nicknames and sweet talk to lure them away from Tyreen. However, you never once told him your name and he highly doubted Tyreen knew it, she wasn’t that type of person, calling you “doll” all the time. Troy went through the other photos, seeing a teenage you with a group of teens on top of a technical, you showing off a robot you built, Cepheus teaching you how to handle a gun, among other ‘family’ themed ones. 

Family. 

His own family was a disaster.

Mother was trapped in a Vault, Pleione killed herself during the coup, and Tyreen meddled in his love life. Bandit upbringing wasn’t the greatest and he admitted during the last years of Pleione’s life, he was cruel to his adoptive mother despite the woman’s efforts to provide him and Tyreen a comfortable life in the wastes.

Your own family was dead.

Cassie killed herself in front of Troy, you killed Cepheus in the arena in cold blood, Vipers were wiped out of the map, and the man in the photo never showed up in later pictures, presumably dead. You were alone and yet you remained headstrong and continued on. 

Determination? 

You were hardened from life, that much Troy could tell. To add to your long list of horrors, you encountered the Calypsos and made a plaything for the God Queen.

“You have shitty luck, Andromeda,” Troy whispered, putting the photos away in the drawer of his workbench. 

Something swelled up in him.

\----------0000000000000-------------

Morning rolled in, Tyreen finding herself alone in bed. She rubbed her eyes, hearing the water running inside the bathroom, signs that you were up early. For once, she was able to sleep well, no nightmares waking her up in the middle of the night as usual. She didn’t recall much when you came back to the hut, only the part of you having a ‘talk’ with her today. 

Tyreen hid her face on a pillow, groaning. It was inevitable, she knew, but she was scared and nervous. What did Troy tell you? Did he badmouth her? Her thoughts stopped when the bathroom door opened, you emerging out wearing your casual clothes. She glanced to the side, laying her head on the pillow.

“Morning,” you said, heading over to the dresser and taking out the necklace and ring. Tyreen was familiar with the ring, but not the necklace, seeing the black heart locket with a faint red glow. The aesthetics screamed of Troy’s influence. 

“Mornin’…” Tyreen replied, sitting up, yawning, “Sleep well..?”

“Yeah, you?” you asked, tying your hair up in a messy bun. Tyreen stared before blinking, blushing, “Uh, yeah, slept well… for once.”

“Nightmares?”

“….Yeah…” Tyreen said, getting up, “Uh.. I brought food last night… I doubt you want military rations for breakfast…” You snorted.

“I can handle it, but I doubt you won’t,” you teased, heading out of your bedroom, “I’ll heat it up while you get ready.” Tyreen nodded, watching you leave. She entered your bathroom, observing around. Not too long ago this place had been a mess with your own blood. 

“….I wonder if she’d want to move elsewhere…?” Tyreen whispered, turning on the faucet, washing her face. She had avoided her own bathroom for a while after breaking the mirror, getting over the fear that she’d repeat it again. You, on the other hand, didn’t seemed fazed by returning to the same place you almost died in. Most likely didn’t care to begin with.

Tyreen finished her morning routine, dressed and meeting you in the small living room area, the faint smell of warm food hitting her. She’d make sure to pack enough food to last a few days for you. As she took a seat, you served her a plate with various fruits, slices of bread, and egg. 

“Hmm…. What is this?” you asked, placing down a small pitcher with light blue liquid on it, “I didn’t heat it up, I figured it was something to drink?”

“Ah, that’s moonberry juice! Taste better when cold,” Tyreen explained, grabbing a cup and filling it up for you, “Try it!” You sniffed the liquid, taking a sip. Your taste buds weren’t able to pinpoint the flavor, but were overwhelmed.

“Its really smooth… I thought it’d be bitter,” you said, sitting down to eat. Tyreen grinned, happy about your response. 

“A bit of honey makes wonders on it,” Tyreen said, eating her food. A calm atmosphere settled between the two of you. Tyreen would glance at your necklace and the locket from time to time, question stuck in her mouth. 

“Troy gave it to me,” you answered, finishing your food.

“Did he…” Tyreen took a sip of her drink, tapping on the sides of the cup. 

A deep sigh escaped you, “Why did you do it?”

“….” The God Queen stared at her cup.

“Tyreen.”

She gulped, her throat tightening, her chest hurting. 

“Why did you kill them?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Helen killed them, not me,” Tyreen responded quickly, agitated. 

“Under your orders,” you countered, “So, in extension, you did. Could have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you didn’t go around and killed Troy’s lovers… including Helen.” 

Tyreen got up from her seat, fists clenched. Alert, you reached over for the small knife by your plate, gripping it tight. You had no qualms in using it to defend yourself if Tyreen wanted to get testy with you. Her back was facing you as she stepped away from the table, taking deep breaths.

“….I was jealous,” Tyreen said, grabbing on to your small couch, “Jealous that my brother had someone to be with when I didn’t have anyone…”

You kept quiet, meeting her gaze when she turned around to face you, a frown adorning her face. She stared for a while before looking down at the floor. 

“It was unfair…I tried to be with others but all they did was use me to elevate their social standing within the CoV, bragging about stupid shit in bed,” Tyreen hissed out, almost growling, “Yet Troy found others that loved him and never abused of his trust…” Her voice was shaky, tears threatening to fall. 

“W-What did my brother have that I didn’t? H-How was he able to get people to love him for himself?” she sobbed out, angry, “I fucking hate him. I-I just… every time I’d see him with someone… I would get so mad… How easy it was for him….”

You tensed up when she approached you, her eyes pleading.

“T-Then you came along… you didn’t care about me being the God Queen…” Tyreen continued, wiping her tears.

“But I don’t love you,” you said, cold.

MAKE HER SUFFER, the little monster screeched, I WANT TO SEE THE COLOR OF HER BLOOD.

“I know….” Tyreen said, feeling pathetic, “I-I know… after what I did to you… I don’t expect you to… I just…” She rubbed her arm, mentally cursing at her Siren tattoos. 

She wanted you to love her back. 

“You hate me… for also being a Siren…” Tyreen whispered, more tears falling.

“Yeah,” you acknowledged, “That’s a given.” The statement made her cry more. You got up from your seat, the knife forgotten on the table. Tilting Tyreen’s chin up, you smiled at her.

“I did tell you that I’d indulge you as long as you accepted my condition, remember?” you grinned, your eyes hinting mischief. Tyreen gulped, nodding. How couldn’t she forget such an outrageous thing? 

/If I grow bored of you, I’ll kill you./

You pressed your lips against Tyreen’s, your hands finding their way around her waist, pulling her close to you. The God Queen eagerly kissed back, her hands on your shoulders, crying more. 

All of it was a farce. 

A fat lie. 

You didn’t love her.

A harsh truth that Tyreen didn’t want to face. Even as you pushed her against the couch, deepening the kiss, the God Queen never let go. She wanted this, no matter the cost.

Losing herself in you.

A game with no winners, only losers.

\--------00000000-------

He had watched you work several times, mostly him bothering and provoking your wrath any chance he could get for your attention. But this time, he didn’t do anything to interrupt your work. 

Your work on his mechanical arm. 

As Troy laid on the workbench, observing you, he couldn’t help picking up at your relaxed state and the small instances of smiles and grins – the cat-like grin – as you prodded, poked, and adjusted his mechanical arm. At one point, he saw you stick your tongue out when one of the rods of his arm wasn’t cooperating with you, even hearing you curse under your breath for the demise of said rod.

You were being your true self with him around. 

“Piece of shit, gotta pull this… and there, got it,” you whispered, clipping the wires that were stuck in his gears, “Damn, its really stuck…” 

“….” Troy glanced at you, keeping quiet. He then heard you babble on how the previous mechanic screwed up the wires, the materials you’d need, and what could be done to fix his mechanical arm. 

No hint of malice or anger. You were being genuine in getting his mechanical arm fixed. You kept talking, even throwing a joke in, something he never heard from you. Troy was itching to ask you about Cepheus and the Vipers, but didn’t want to ruin the mood.

He was liking this side of you.

\----------00000000000---------

“It’s a bad idea,” Jackal starts, holding his face in his hands, “I don’t like it at all, Andromeda.”

“Same,” Perseus added, shaking his head, “These are the Calypsos we are talking about. Stringing them along like this is going to backfire on you badly!”

You were laying on the floor of Jackal’s study, staring up at the ceiling, “I made it clear to them that I don’t like them. You saw Tyreen, she accepted my stupid condition. Troy, on the other hand, is using the same tactics he did with Helen.” Sweet words and a little gift. Not your fault they were making this too easy for you. 

“And to top it off, you met with Cetus!” Perseus said, glaring at you, “What were you thinking!? My brother is still pissed off you disobeyed his orders, what if the Calypsos had been there? You think they’d stand by and let that man near you?”

“I went to say ‘hi,’ that is all,” you muttered, sighing, “It’s been three years since I’ve seen him and Winona.”

“You tried to kill him, Andromeda,” Jackal rubbed his forehead, “Everyone saw that, well those that survived that bomb blast.”

“Oh, right, because he tried to kill me too!” you raised your arms up, then let them drop back on your chest, “He’s still the same cold son of a bitch, didn’t even flinch while I was up there being held back by Winona and Odie. Fucker was enjoying it.”

He always did. 

But you were only half serious during the altercation, you could have easily overpowered Odie and Winona with the amount of rage you had. That’s what made it exciting for you, Odie and Winona were AWARE of that notion. 

“Like I said, I’m gonna use the Calypsos to wipe out Trinity… if they die in the process, beats me,” you said, glancing at Perseus and Jackal, “They lived a long life by bandit standards.”

Perseus groaned in frustration, “That’s what you don’t get, the Twin Gods may be smitten by you now, but what if they find out about your true motives? Using them as cannon fodder? Then what? They’ll kill you!”

“You’re asking that to someone who has an ongoing death wish,” you stated, humming, “I was trained to kill my targets, that’s what I’m doing.”

Cetus and Trinity.

Vipers were dead, Cassie dead, Cepheus dead, and the Rat King obliterated. 

A destructive path with the dead littering along it leading towards you. Troy and Tyreen were now under your thumb, you were playing along with them just as they had with others before you.

“Troy and Tyreen had their way with others, but all of a sudden, I’m the bad guy for switching it on them?” you asked, baffled by the situation.

“When they lead a massive cult spanning planets and galaxies, Sirens they are, it’s a crazy thought!” Jackal raised his voice, “Please, just think this through, don’t make any thoughtless decisions…”

“….Fine,” you muttered, looking away from them, “Can’t make any promises, but I will try to consult with you two before I do a move.”

“Wow, very reassuring,” Perseus said, “Also, it won’t be easy for you to do anything with the Twin Gods.”

“And why is that?” you asked, sitting up.

Jackal gave you a stern look, “Odie.”

The Twin God’s guard dog.

\---------0000000000---------

When he thought things were getting back to normal, somewhat, with the CoV, life threw another curveball at him. The last Let’s Flay garnered a lot of views and followers, but also brought unwanted attention. Troy and Tyreen were informed about someone posting cryptic messages and pictures in the EchoNet, one that seemed to be you.

The cat-like grin. 

“Doctored, no?” Donovan asked. It was at this point, Troy wished he kept his mouth shut.

“I don’t think so, when she laughs, her lips curl in a grin, almost cat-like. You can see it there,” Troy said, pointing it out. 

“She laughs around you,” Tyreen stated, flat tone. Troy wanted the earth to swallow him. 

“Tyreen….” Troy pleaded. Everyone knew you didn’t like Tyreen. Jealousy. Tyreen’s jealousy was getting worse and worse each day. Not wanting to deal with his sister’s mood, he left.

Answers.

He wanted answers.

With Tyreen on him now, he wasn’t going to get any.

\--------00000000-----

“I figured I’d find you here.”

Troy didn’t bother turning around, standing still as Tyreen approached him. He was back at Helen’s grave, eyeing the fresh batch of flowers on the soil and the new candles in the skull, marks that you were there earlier. 

“So that’s where the flowers went,” Tyreen commented, gazing at the grave, “I see the purple hyacinths made themselves home on Donovan’s skull.”

“Yeah…” Troy responded, feeling awkward. He wanted to shoo away Tyreen, her presence insulting before Helen’s grave, though, he figured his sister had a damn good reason to be around these parts.

“…You talked to her?” Tyreen asked, almost in a whisper.

“I did, well, not thoroughly, but at least it’s something,” Troy replied, keeping calm.

“Hmm… she showed me the locket you gave her,” Tyreen said, watching the flowers sway in the wind, the light of the candles flickering.

“Please don’t start getting jeal-“ Annoyance bubbled up in Troy. He was done with her jealousy fits.

“I’m not,” Tyreen interjected, voice strained, “I know you love her, you yelled at Mother about that… Like I said… she’s only humoring me…” She sounded disappointed.

“What are you getting at?” Troy asked, kneeling down, patting the soil. The flowers flinched at his touch, moving away, the tall Calypso snorting at their behavior.

“I’m sorry.”

Troy went still, blinking. 

He looked up, meeting Tyreen’s somber gaze, “….What?”

“I’m sorry,” Tyreen repeated, “…I’m not asking for your forgiveness… I took them away from you… Helen and the others…”

….

“You should be apologizing to her then,” Troy whispered, looking down at the grave, feeling the flowers pat his hand, “Not to me.”

“Troy…” Tyreen knelt down beside him, “I’m serious… about what I said… If you decide to pursue her, I won’t interfere… I promise…”

Troy hmphed, ripping the flower from the soil patch. The remaining flowers immediately latched on to Troy’s hand, keeping it place while Tyreen grabbed the withering flower from her brother’s hand. She cupped the flower in her hands, watching it regrow before gently placing it on the soil, the other flowers letting go of Troy’s hand, one of them smacking it.

“Don’t be mean to them… she placed them there for a reason…” Tyreen whispered, standing up.

Her brother let out a dry laugh, shaking his head, “Wow, how considerate of you, God Queen. Very considerate now that Helen’s dead.”

“Troy…” Tyreen attempted again.

“Can it, Tyreen. I don’t want to hear it anymore,” Troy got up as well, rubbing his hand from the flower’s smack, “I heard you loud and clear, but get this, should you as much hurt Andromeda… I won’t hold back.”

Troy spoke your name.

“I’m serious about that,” Troy turned to face her, jabbing his finger on her shoulder, “At least I’m giving you a warning.”

“Loud and clear,” Tyreen said, smacking his hand and walking away, “Loud and clear…”

It was lonely at the top.

\-------000000000---------

Dreams, dreams, dreams. Most of his dreams were tame. When under stress, they’d be horrible. However, this time, it was pleasant. He wasn’t one to fantasize a lot, but he felt embarrassed with this dream. Troy had dreamt of being back at the warehouse with you working on his arm. 

He knew this was a dream: You were actually talking to him about your life. Questions plagued Troy and the dream helped him sort it out in a nice way minus blood and gore. Your voice was soft, soothing, no hint of anger. 

But like anything good in life, there’s always an ugly side.

“Had a nice dream?”

Troy rolled over in the bed, not wanting to face the other occupant, “Just drop it.”

“Drop it? You were talking in your sleep…” Helen said, sitting up, “About Tyreen’s plaything!”

“I said. Drop. It,” Troy said more louder, getting irritated, “And don’t think about confronting her, Tyreen is already on edge as it is.”

Helen growled, getting out of bed, grabbing her clothes, “Gee, thanks for the heads up, Father Troy. I say the same to you!” She put on her robes, leaving Troy’s room and slamming the door. Troy sighed, frustrated. 

He always came back to Helen no matter what.

Fight.

Leave.

Reconcile.

Fight.

Leave.

Reconcile.

\------0000000000-------

The Harvest grounds had repugnant smell from the decaying bodies strewn about the fields, a scent you were very familiar with for a long time. As you stepped into the warehouse, you chuckled at the sight of another occupant. Odie was sitting on a pile of bricks, tossing up and down a switchblade.

“Ready for a rematch?” you asked, jokingly. 

“Unfortunately, no,” Odie grinned, standing up, “Thanks for coming over, I figured this place is cozy to your liking?”

“Could use more dead bodies, unless you are willing to volunteer for that part,” you replied, laughing. 

“Ehehe, fun shit, fun shit,” Odie smirked, “All fun and games until someone is dead, right? Andromeda?”

“Oh, for me, that’s where it starts,” you countered, the corner of lips twitching.

Tension in the air.

Odie pointed the switchblade at you, smiling, “I hope that’s not directed to Troy and Tyreen.”

You returned the smile, hands on your hips.

His expression soured, “Let me set the record straight with you, _plaything._ If you are planning something that leads to their deaths, you bet your ass I’m coming for you.”

You didn’t respond, your smile getting wider. 

“Don’t be smug about it,” Odie hissed out.

“I’m not, just wondering how you will kill me when you would have a target on your back,” you gestured at him, chuckling, “Right, Perseus? Jackal?”

“What?” Odie blinked, watching his brother and the priest walk into the warehouse. Perseus and Jackal stood side by side next to you, looking at Odie.

“I’m just leveling the play field here, Odie,” you grinned, giggling, “Quite unfair the Twin Gods have protection but I don’t. Let’s say, they’ve wronged many people….”

“Perseus…” Odie’s expression hardened, “What do you think you are doing?”

“Supporting my friend, what else?” Perseus said, angry, “Do you think I enjoy seeing the God Queen near Andromeda after what she did?”

“Jackal…”

“Do you really want to me say it, Odie? You know what she did to Troy’s lovers… what she did to my daughter…” Jackal hissed out, gripping tight the Helenite gun, “And Troy is at fault as well…”

“Your loyalty is to the Twin Gods… You’re CoVs!” Odie shouted, not believing what he was hearing, especially from his brother, “Not to her!”

“Who spoke about loyalty?” you asked, shaking your head, “I’m not forcing them to follow me, we just happen to have the same feelings of anger towards the Twin Gods, that’s it. They are free to abandon me as they please.”

Loyalty through fear? That was the Calypso way.

Loyalty through anger? It was coincidence that it happened that way. 

“Odie… I’m only a plaything,” you said, your expression darkening, “Used and abused, surely I’m allowed a leeway to have some fun, no?”

“Andromeda…” Odie muttered.

“If it makes you feel better,” you pointed at Jackal and Perseus, “They have taken the role of being my handlers, if you catch my drift… why do you think Cetus had Cepheus and the Rat King trail me all the time?”

Cepheus, the Terror of the Waste, an experienced bandit – killed by you.

Rat King, bandit lord of the marshlands, a crazy psychopath bandit – killed by you.

“Are they going to meet the same fate?” Odie asked, eyeing his brother.

“We’re not keeping her tied up,” Perseus growled out, “Don’t compare us to those fuckers.”

Anger. 

“We’re just cheerleaders!” Jackal said, amused, then laughed, his psycho persona showing.

“See?” you laughed, crossing your arms, “Its all good? You do you, and I’ll do my thing. As far as hurting the Calypsos, you’ll have to be more specific about that. Considering that they are quite sensitive in the feelings department.”

Odie didn’t respond while he approached you, touching the tip of his switchblade alongside your cheek. Perseus and Jackal were cautiously watching as you grinned, the priest recognizing the object.

“….” Jackal’s gaze was intense on the switchblade.

“I’m serious, that little stunt with Cetus…” Odie whispered, pressing harder on the switchblade, “I’ll be keeping an eye on you…” He stepped back, sniffing before spitting on the ground, leaving the warehouse. Waiting till he was out of earshot, Perseus and Jackal gasped loudly, keeling over.

“Oh my god… I thought I was going to shit myself,” Perseus said, taking deep breaths, “I would have lost it had this went longer…”

“Gross, don’t say that!” you said, laughing, “Mad props, he bought it by the looks of it.”

“Shit.. I don’t think my heart can handle another scare like this,” Jackal said, hand over his chest, “Andromeda… you are too much…”

“Pft, I did say you guys are free to leave,” you pointed out, shrugging.

“What did we tell you before?” Perseus asked, standing up now, “You ain’t getting rid of us that easily.”

“Nope,” Jackal added, “No matter how crazy you get, like you said, its when the fun starts…. Maybe I should retire priesthood and return to being a full-on psycho…”

“Aye, aye,” you raised your arm up, “Here’s to our little troop of misfits.”

Perseus and Jackal raised their arms up, chucking, “Aye, aye!”

A little family in a sea of insanity.

\----------000000000--------

Beating up prisoners was a favorite past time of Troy. Maiming them after finding out that his on-and-off ‘lover’ snitched on him when he went on a joyride with you was headache-inducing, especially when using his mechanical arm that you instructed not to mess with.

“I should just leave you like this,” you muttered, following Troy to his private workshop, “See how you like hauling giant piece of metal with rotting flesh, let the rods snap and break into your sides…”

You were pissed off. 

Troy sighed, dealing with angry women was becoming tiresome. First Tyreen, ongoing with Helen, and now you. You had legitimate reason, though, Troy ruining your work-in-progress in the delicate mechanical arm. He let that slide.

Fortunately for him, your mood improved once you got a glimpse of his workshop and were more ecstatic in exploring it. It was endearing to you see bounce around, pointing out items, jealous that Troy possessed items that you dreamt of having at the warehouse. No jealousy of loves. No jealousy for attention. 

Just simple jealousy of two mechanics with different tools. 

Troy wanted to laugh at how silly the situation was. You were more preoccupied in getting items ready to fix his arm, instructing him to clean up as you lost yourself in forging the wires needed for the tune-up. As Troy cleaned up his arm, he observed you at the forge, creating the molds and smelting the Atlas scraps. 

You grinned while you hammered on the anvil, keeping a steady grip on the new rod you were creating, polishing up the casts from the molds, and heating-cooling the metal hooks. Genuine expressions of excitement and wonder.

Troy found himself staring at you, admiring your form. Relaxed shoulders, jaw loose, eyes focused. 

No tension, no snarls, no glares.

You turned to look at Troy, flashing a thumbs up as you showed him a finished hook. Covered in soot and sweat, your hair disheveled, beaming.

Beautiful.

Troy’s heart skipped a beat.

\------00000000--------

Three days passed without much activity in the CoV hub, the cultists going about their day as usual. You had finished your shift at the warehouse, escorted by Jackal to the Calypso’s main living quarters for an ‘audience’ with the twins. Priests that mingled in the hallways parted to the sides, eyeing you with curiosity. Their animosity towards you lessened since you kept coming by and taking care of Helen’s grave at the Cathedral. 

You waved at them while passing by, smiling. 

The priests huddled around, whispering amongst themselves, parting quickly when Jackal threw them a dirty look. 

“Heh, scary,” you said, following Jackal around, “I’m surprised you are not a high priest or something,”

Jackal shook his head, “I rather just be a regular priest, nothing too flashy… Here we are.” He paused before a door, knocking on it. A Badass Psycho opened it, allowing the duo entrance. Troy and Tyreen were seated opposite of each other on large, regal chairs, at the center end was Odie, grinning at you. Tyreen shyly waved at you, giving you a small smile. 

“Sup!” Odie chirped, “Good to have you joining us today!”

“Ugh, you’re here,” you muttered, taking a seat opposite of Odie.

“My thoughts exactly when he invited himself in,” Troy chuckled, sitting up straight, Odie sticking his tongue out at him. 

“Rude! Anyways, you are dismissed Jackal and hey, big guy, step outside!” Odie ordered, crossing his legs, “Important business here.” Jackal bowed, giving you a thumbs up before departing the room followed by the Badass Psycho.

Once the door clicked close, Odie stood up, hands behind his back, “Alright, let’s get this show on the road! Plaything! The ever so gracious Twin Gods have call for your favor!”

“What the fuck,” you blurted out, furrowing your eyebrows, “What.”

Troy groaned, “Odie, come on. Don’t make it cringy!”

Tyreen snorted, looking away, suppressing a laugh.

“What I said is cringy? Your fucking videos are cringy…” Odie said, shuddering, “I lose brain cells watching them.”

“You’ve already lost them before watching them,” Troy huffed out, growling.

“Alright, ladies, you both are pretty, but what was I called for?” you butted in, getting annoyed. Tyreen let out a giggle, earning a glare from Troy.

“I knew I was prettier than Troy,” Odie said, nodding, “So, yeah, Andromeda, we are here to discuss… things…. yes! Boundaries and shit.”

A blank expression adorned your face while Troy facepalmed on the side, irritated. Tyreen, by her part, was entertained. 

“Odie…” Troy muttered.

“Father Troy wants to get freaky with you, so to speak,” Odie said, nonchalantly, causing Troy to stand up and smack him on the arm. Tyreen bit her lip, then glanced at you.

“Okay….?” You said, slowly, lost.

“See! She agreed, it wasn’t that bad, Troy!” the general chirped, nursing his bruised arm, “Geez, making a fuss over all this! Typical Troy!”

“What,” you asked again.

“ODIE!” Troy shouted, “Fuck, ignore what he said…. I.. Remember the conversation we had... back in my private workshop? About what I asked you? Did you… Did you decide?”

A second chance.

All eyes were on you. Tyreen mentioned she wasn’t going to interfere, Odie in his weird way threatened you, and Troy …. 

“…Sure. I’ll give you a chance,” you said, Odie’s stare intensifying on you. 

“O-Oh.. you are?” Troy asked, earning a smack from Odie, “H-Hey!”

“She agreed to it, now let’s move on!” Odie said, ignoring Troy’s outburst, “So, Andromeda, now that that’s settled… boundaries will have to be set since well…”

“I’m a plaything,” you stated, bored. The twins visibly winced at your detached response. 

You were still upset at your current situation.

“Yeah, you’re a plaything and all, so the Twin Gods have a reputation to uphold, so to speak,” Odie gestured, “We’re gonna have to keep the PDA at a low for now, if you catch my drift.”

“I have no problem with that,” you said, shrugging, “Tell that to them.”

“W-What?” Troy gawked at you. Tyreen coughed, shyly looking away.

“Ha! Applies to you two as well! Keep your hands to yourself!” Odie said, scolding the twins, “We still haven’t gotten around fixing the cameras and that fucker will see what’s going on!”

“Odie…” Troy muttered.

“He’s right, you know,” you said, leaning back on your chair, “He’s still watching.”

“That’s another matter to discuss later…” Tyreen said, resting her hands on her lap, “We wanted to… settle this with you first…”

“Alright, now what? Do we get to pick cute nicknames for each other?” you joked, grinning. 

“Haha, very funny,” Odie said, “Aside from the PDA and shit, Jackal will still be the one to escort you around the Calypsos’ living quarters, for safety purposes. Cultists won’t think its strange for Tyreen or Troy to visit you at the hut, they’ve much established that already since you first arrived, I assume?”

You rolled your eyes, nodding, remembering Tyreen’s break-ins, “Yep… same for the warehouse.”

“I will still pester you,” Troy jested, chuckling. 

“Gee, I’ll have a wrench nearby with your name on it,” you replied, a playful smirk on your lips.

“How lovely, starting off with a good note you two,” Odie quipped, “Alright, then, Andromeda, anything you want to add?”

“Me?” you asked, puzzled, “Add on what?”

“Boundaries,” Tyreen said, “You want to set… some rules…?” Or conditions.

“…Nah, I’m good,” you said, tapping your fingers on your arm rest, “If there’s anything, I’ll bring it up.”

“Alright…” Tyreen glanced at Troy, “You?”

“Uh… well… If we have arguments, as much I dislike it, I’d like for Odie to mediate,” Troy said, ignoring Odie’s lit up face, “He’s our best bet to have a neutral party.”

“Ugh… I agree,” you sighed, sticking your tongue out at Odie, “You, Tyreen?”

“For the moment, nothing…” she replied, quietly.

“Hmmm, good, good, see, we all can have a nice conversation like civilized bandits!” Odie clapped, grinning, more excited than everyone present, “You may kiss the bride now!”

“Odie, we’re not getting married, what the fuck,” Troy said, jumping when you approached him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “I-I what?” You ventured over to Tyreen, giving her a peck on her forehead, the God Queen giggling. 

“Ha, Troy’s a bride, pft,” Odie snickered, dodging an arm swing from Troy.

“At least I’m not a bridesmaid!” Troy snorted, hearing you laugh. 

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride,” you joked, holding Tyreen’s hand. The God Queen stood up, hugging your arm, laughing as well, smiling. Troy got up, walking over to you and Tyreen, ruffling your hair.

“So, this is it huh?” Troy said, a small smile on his lips, “…I promise to look after you…”

“Don’t be so cheesy,” you grabbed his human hand, “Just be your usual self, albeit not too overboard crazy.” Troy chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek.

“Alright,” Troy whispered, messing more with your hair. Tyreen rested her head on your shoulder, her fingers interlocking with yours, “Define crazy.”

“Uh… bandit wasted crazy, Odie crazy,” you mused.

“Wow, ganging up on me I see,” Odie said, feigning being hurt, “You wound me, if it weren’t for me, you two wouldn’t be in the same room as her!” He covered his face, fake sobbing before laughing. 

“See what I mean?” you pointed out, grinning. The twins laughed, more at ease now. Insults, threats, shouting were a common thing between the three of you, but with this new change, they hoped things would get better.

They dearly hoped.

\---------0000000---------

He was an idiot. 

Should have kept his mouth shut.

“Stay away from her,” Tyreen said, glaring at him. Troy looked away, deeply inhaling and biting his tongue from barking anything back at his sister.

He expressed his admiration for you.

Tyreen took it as a confession, but she wasn’t done yet.

“Tell your whore to stay away from my plaything, I won’t be kind like the others,” Tyreen threatened. 

Mikhail, Neika, Morgana, and Charon. Their pins felt scorching hot against his skin inside his jacket. 

Killing them was Tyreen’s brand of kindness? Ordering Helen to do it?

“She’s not a bedwarmer….” Troy hissed out, fists clenched. A headache, Helen was that. His fault for always going back to her. The one that wasn’t sent away.

“I don’t give two shits,” Tyren said, throwing you torn-up jacket that belonged at him, “She did this, Jackal told me.” Troy stared at the garment.

Fight.

Leave.

Reconcile.

Not this time.

Maybe.

He was in denial as always. He was tired of Tyreen taking things away from him. Was that why he kept going back to Helen because she wasn’t sent away? A question that always went unanswered, Troy thought. 

“Can you kiss it well?” 

Troy looked down at you, amused. He managed to catch Helen in the surveillance tailing you, immediately hauling ass to stop her from further harming you. He indulged you by licking your wound, you made an off-comment remark about his action before passing out in his arms. You snuggled onto his chest, whispering silly things about rakks and skags.

The tall Calypso brought you back to your hut, placing you on your bed and giving up his jacket when you refused to part away with it. 

“I have shitty luck…” Troy whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead. You clutched his jacket, smiling. He sat at the edge of your bed, hearing your breathing. He reached out to ruffle your hair, sighing, hand resting on your cheek. 

\------0000000------

Back in Maliwan headquarters, Winona paced back and forth in her office, nervous. Weeks had passed since the Let’s Flay and her and Cetus’s visit to the CoV hub, your frightening encounter at the arena leaving a mark in her woman’s mind. 

Anger.

Pure anger.

Although you brushed it off as a funny moment for the sake of the CoV views, Winona knew you were holding back in killing Cetus. A message. A message of war, that’s what it was. She could imagine your sadistic smile hiding behind the psycho mask, having witnessed it numerous times during the fights arranged by Trinity. 

A past long gone. Winona went over to a bookshelf, her gaze on a photograph inside a crudely made photo frame. In it, she had her arm wrapped around your waist as you held little Blue, all three of you smiling at the camera, Winona flashing a peace sign. Peaceful times?

Did you hate _her_ as well?

“Andromeda…” Winona whispered, “I should have done something…” She looked over to another photo, a vertical, displaying Circe and Winona, both wearing the regular Maliwan executive attire, the background portraying a company dinner. 

Ping!

Winona rubbed her eyes, refraining from crying, took out her Comm device, “A report? So soon?” She quickly headed over to her desk, bringing up a hologram screen, adjusting her glasses. A report filed in, the woman reading over it, straining to keep a straight face.

“No… This can’t be right…” Winona muttered, “She wouldn’t… She can’t…”

.:Log XXXX.XX.XXXX  
.: _Word has reached me that Her Majesty has become romantically involved with the Calypsos. It’s a hushed subject at the CoV, the lower ranked cultists unaware of this arrangement. Troy Calypso’s right-hand man, Odysseus, has ordered a kill-on-sight for anyone attempting to use this as blackmail. This has made it more difficult for me to approach Her Majesty if she is in the company of the Calypsos._

Winona slammed her fist on her desk, furious, “They must have threatened her… There is no way she’d do this to….”

Cetus.

“S-She wouldn’t…” she covered her mouth, emotional, “Damnit…”

“No need for foul language, Winona.”

Winona looked up, sitting up straight, “S-Sir..!”

Cetus stood by the doorway, curiously observing her, “A report?” He held his hand, touching the silver band on his finger. Winona gulped, nodding.

“Yes, sir… unexpected developments…” Winona said, gathering the mental strength to relay the message.

\-------00000000-------

Fear. Pure fear. It had been ages since Troy felt that, down to the core of his bones. Explosions and screams, he recognized the voice belonging to Tyreen. More shouting. He felt light, then nausea hit him, then cold. Disorientated, he tried to look around but his body wouldn’t respond. The last thing he recalled was diving in to shield Tyreen from an attack from a strange creature found at the Atlas stronghold the CoV had been spying on as per Cepheus’s notes. 

The Terror of the Waste who had a past with you.

Things went south when making contact with the individual known as “Master,” the same one that had posted the cryptic messages and photos on the EchoNet about you. 

“T-Troy, please hang on!”

Tyreen.

Hands.

All over him. Warm. 

“We need to stabilize him, the metal plates have sunk more into his chest.”

…

Your voice.

He wanted to scream, grab on to you.

He was scared. Troy’s wish came true, screaming out in pain as he was jolted back alive with his neuroconnector on his spine. He could still feel your hands on his back, making sure everything was connected and sealed. He fought hard to keep himself awake but lost the battle.

“Troy, keep your eyes on me,” Pip instructed, staring down at Troy on the operating table, “I’ll finish patching you but you need to tell me if you are feeling pain.”

“An… Andr…” Troy muttered, his hands twitched. 

Pip furrowed his eyebrows, “Troy?”

“Andromeda…”

**You had saved his life.**

\------000000000-------

Cetus held a wine glass, slowly moving his hand, the liquid threatening to spill. He observed out the window from his sprawling executive office into the city below, bustling with life, people unaware of the horrors of bandits and the treacherous wastes in Promethea, living comfortably. 

You had exchanged this life for the former, surrounded by bandits.

Surrounded by two deadly Sirens.

He took a sip from his wine, leaning against the window with his arm, pondering on what Winona had informed him from the report.

/Romantically involved with the Calypsos./

Cetus chuckled, then closed his eyes, “I see your little game, dear. You never cease to amaze me, ever unpredictable, that’s what I love about you.” 

The silver ring on his finger burned, memories of three years ago flooding back to him. What would’ve happened if he didn’t attempt to kill Circe? Hurt Blue? Would you still be around despite you were growing fearful of him? **Resentful?**

Would you be walking right now into his office, scolding him for missing dinner? He admitted he overlooked little things like that, a sense of normalcy with you. Three years of watching you go about your life as a bandit, seeing you get captured by the Calypsos, and now scheming with them against him.

Against Trinity.

“I can’t wait to see what you have in store for me, dear,” Cetus said, smirking, “I know you won’t making our little game boring.”

\------0000000------

Although she was there to provide support and comfort, he wanted Helen away. Under sedatives, apparently, he called out for you in the presence of Tyreen and Helen, the latter visibly irritated. He didn’t need to guess Tyreen’s response. Fortunately, he was alone in the room, able to rest from any drama and tension between his sister and on-and-off lover. 

His condition was kept under wraps as far as Pip informed him, the cultists were told that the raid was successful and that an arena fight would occur at a later date. Nobody needed to know their Twin God was on the verge of death. 

Saved by a _plaything._

Troy hugged his pillow, trying his best to rest. A phantom feeling hung over him, the wires and IV fluid hooked to him and the beeping of the heart monitor reminded him of childhood nightmares. 

He heard the door open, half expecting Helen entering the room. He was about to shout at her when he held it back upon noticing his new guest.

You were standing there, his white jacket neatly folded in your arms. Troy didn’t hide his surprised look.

“Hey…” you said, closing the door, approaching Troy, “That weird medic guy let me in.”

Pip.

“How are you feeling- Oh, stupid question,” you said, laughing nervously, “I wanted to check your back, if you don’t mind…” Troy blinked, then glanced away, then back at you, nodding. He was able to talk, but refrained from doing so, partly for fear of blurting something that would drive you away.

You placed the jacket on a chair nearby, then went around the bed to see Troy’s back. He heard you hiss a bit, then a low ‘damn…,’ unsure if that was a good sign. His body jerked when he felt your warm hands touch his skin.

“Sorry, should have given you a warning,” you said, sheepishly, “I want to make sure nothing is amiss, these types of things are finicky.” Troy didn’t say anything, but nodded. He closed his eyes, hearing you whisper to yourself about some of the connectors and wires. 

He felt a hand on his head, patting him. When Troy opened his eyes, the room was dark for the exception of a small lamp on the nightstand and the heart monitor machine.

A dream?

It must have been a dream.

There was no way you’d visit him willingly, you didn’t like him or Tyreen.

There was a neatly folded white jacket with the black fur on the chair.

\--------0000000000--------

“She’s been letting me hold her hand without asking… I mean, I’m not hogging it all the time,” Tyreen defended herself against Perseus’ accusatory stare, “...I’ve been holding back a lot. I’m trying…”

Perseus sighed, then cleared his throat, “I know, I know. But don’t overwhelm her.”

“Troy doesn’t have any problems…” Tyreen muttered, lips thin.

Perseus gave her a ‘really?’ look, seeing where this was headed. Tyreen stomped her foot, getting up from her seat, a worn-out technical tire, kicking it. 

“I’m trying! I really am! Ugh!” the God Queen pulled at her hair, then rubbing her face in frustration, “I just wish I don’t have to worry about her flinching when I get near!”

“….You did hurt her physically,” Perseus stated, “Don’t make it seem like it was years ago… It was only a few months ago.”

“I’m still plagued by nightmares, just… me… towering over her as she cowers on the ground,” Tyreen whispered, staring at the wall, clenching her fists, “I was a fucking idiot back then… I fucking wish I could go back in time and just beat myself up for it.”

“It has happened already,” Perseus offered, trying to figure out what to tell the God Queen, “Its up to her now what happens.”

Tyreen chuckled, smiling, “That’s what Troy told me as well… ‘Its up to her now.’ And it is… the irony…. I know she won’t love me… but it hurts…” It hurt seeing you interact more ‘intimate’ with her brother.

/She’s only humoring me, Troy./

“I can’t help you on that…” the mechanic glanced at her, awkward. He wasn’t expecting for Tyreen to vent out about you. 

“Hm, I wish you could,” Tyreen muttered, “You’ve been by her side all this time, right?”

And the source of her initial jealousy, hating to be in the same room as the man, her present situation laughable. Now, Perseus was helping her out with you.

“Yeah, but it took a long time for me to gain her trust,” Perseus commented, tapping his foot, “And for her to gain mine.” A two-way thing, mutual understanding. He saw the same thing with Jackal, the priest joining you and Perseus after what happened to Helen. 

Tyreen faced Perseus, giving him a sad smile, “No matter what, please look after her.”

Perseus blinked, seeing the God Queen’s expression turn to a frown, nodding at her request.

For once, he pitied her.

\------00000000000-------

“I love you.”

Your voice haunted him. During the ride to the hub, bits and pieces of your fight with the strange creature of the Atlas stronghold came back to him. That night, everyone changed… for the worse. Tyreen was on edge, unable to control her anger. Helen kept threatening you. And you…

You were on a downward spiral of insanity. The last Let’s Flay was gruesome, you had no problem wiping the floor with the other playthings, even toying with a Goliath of all things. Comparing a Goliath to that Atlas creature was comparing a skag pup to a Rakk Hive. He and Tyreen received more messages about the ‘Master’ individual, taunting them about you. 

Tyreen was more and more on the verge of snapping and was avoiding you at all costs. It was for the best, Troy thought, as he helped you back to the medic room after the fight, bewildered by your state of confusion and lack of memory about killing several priests on your way out of the arena. 

“How come you didn’t kill me when you had the chance?” you asked him as you washed yourself in the tub.

“I don’t know,” Troy responded. He didn’t know. He had multiple chances, aware that Tyreen would certainly be upset at your death compared to her other playthings. 

As you stared at him, he pondered once again on that question before kissing you. 

**He was in love.**

\----00000000-----

You focused intently on the gadget in your hand, a grenade mod, as you carefully peeled the circuitry with a pair of tweezers. Biting your lip, you grinned when successful in removing the small board, placing it on a piece of cloth. Ecstatic with the new haul of scraps, you found the mod almost intact, finding out that it needed a quick respec. 

“Easy does it…” you whispered, now unscrewing the main battery compartment. You shuddered as you felt arms wrap around you, a hot breath on your neck. 

“What you doing?” Troy nuzzled your neck, giving it a gentle nip.

“Damnit, Troy, I need to be careful with this,” you snorted, then laughed when he blew a raspberry, “S-Stop! Ahahaha!” He pulled you away as you squirmed under his grip, laughing more. 

“Pft, ahahaha! AAAH! STOP!” you pinched the bridge of his nose, Troy dropping you while he cackled.

“Ehehe, you are just adorable when flustered,” Troy teased, poking you on the forehead, “You gotta be aware of your surroundings while working!”

“Right, because here at the CoV, we follow strict, industrial guidelines to keep everyone safe while working at the warehouse,” you rolled your eyes, gesturing at your scars.

“Could be worse.. We could be like Hyperion!” Troy said, a little eager, “Besides, I think Moksha has done a hell of a job keeping you and the others alive with all the machinery we got.”

“True, I don’t know how she does it to deal with us,” you ventured back to the workbench, picking up the dissected mod, “The pay must be good.”

“We… let her live?” Troy shrugged, following you again, “It is what it is, babe.”

“Ew, don’t call me ‘babe,’ makes me sound like some… plastic, botoxed woman…” you shook your head. Troy leaned on the workbench, “Then what do you propose?”

“Hmm… how about ‘Little Skaggie,’ or ‘Ratch-boo,’” you smirked, resuming your work. Troy snickered, then slammed his fist on the workbench, keeling over in laughter. He held his stomach.

“I-I can’t tell if you are serious or not… What the hell, ‘Skagie’ and ‘Ratch-boo?’” the tall Calypso teared up, your bored expression selling it, wheezing, “Oh.. my god..” 

“Are you done?” you snorted, “Careful, you might bust something.” His mischievous grin screamed of danger.

“No, don’t even think about it. Don’t say it!” you protested, déjà vu hitting you from the first few months with the CoV. 

“Bust… a … nut…Ha!” Troy dodged a screwdriver, cackling. 

“Damnit, Troy!” you shouted, fighting the urge to grin at his stupid antic. He leaned forward, embracing you, his laughter getting quiet. 

“Hehe, I had to get it out of my system,” Troy said, patting your head, “May I?”

“May you what?” you asked, guessing what he’ll request.

“Hold you a bit longer?” Troy said.

Oh.

“…Yeah,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his waist, “Go ahead.” You thought he’d ask for a kiss. Unlike Tyreen, he never had issues ‘guessing’ your mood if you were open for physical affection. Troy hummed, satisfied with the answer, combing your hair with his fingertips. The sensation was nice, relaxing, the little tension you had easing away. 

“Feels nice, right?” Troy asked, his voice warm.

“Yeah…” you whispered, honest.

It felt nice, comforting. 

\-------00000000-------

Fight.

Leave.

Reconcile.

Same old, same old. Troy was exhausted of that routine. He never dealt with ugly breakups, Tyreen doing that service for him whenever taking away his lovers. He only knew about the heart wrenching feeling, never delivering it to someone.

“Its her, isn’t it?”

Troy sighed, nodding. Helen, the one who remained by his side all this time, devoted, laughed at his own dilemma. There was no love left behind on his part. Maybe he shouldn’t have interfered between Odie and Helen.

“You can’t kill the competition this time around when its your sister,” she taunted, laughing more, “How pitiful.” He hated the truth on that statement. 

“Just go,” the priestess begged, Troy leaving her to wallow in grief. 

Fight.

Leave.

Reconcile. 

Not anymore, certainly ever. Troy managed to stop Tyreen from hurting Helen after she found out about the priestess’s intent to kill – harm – you the night before the Atlas raid. He had hoped Helen would no longer put herself in danger, but things escalated when she tried to attack you in the bar. 

His hand was forced to deliver judgment: Helen was stripped of her title and thrown into the CoV jailhouse to await punishment by Tyreen: Certain death. Troy could no longer protect Helen, fear creeping up on him. 

Would Tyreen actually kill her for attempting to hurt you?

He prayed for a divine entity’s intervention.

\---------00000000000-------

Perseus polished a new shotgun he created, glaring at the other occupant in Jackal’s study. His brother, Odie, was twirling in the chair, amused by the mechanic’s action. 

“Nice piece you got, little brother,” Odie said, stopping, slightly dizzy, “Pray tell, why would you need something of that caliber.”

“Might need it, someday,” Perseus replied, opening the gun’s chamber, removing the shotgun shells, “Who knows what dangers lurk around here.”

“No need to be dark,” Odie rolled over to him, “Don’t go swinging that shit around, be glad that Tyreen doesn’t want to kill you anymore for misunderstanding your relationship with Andromeda.”

Perseus closed the chamber, tossing the shells to the side, annoyed, “Gee, how grateful I am.”

“You should be! She sought you out to help her with Andromeda. That damn beast of a plaything has managed to scare her!” Odie said, eyes wide, “Speaking of that, how’s it going? Based on your opinion, is Tyreen improving?”

“…From what Andromeda has told me, yes.. Although, the God Queen still displays insecurity and frustration,” Perseus said, putting the shotgun away in a case.

“Troy, eh?” Odie swung his legs around, “She’s never been with anyone or at least put effort to ‘care’ for someone. With Troy, its second nature for him. Can’t fault Andromeda though, Tyreen did a number on her from what Pip told me.”

The beating.

“She needs to learn to be patient,” Perseus muttered, taking out another gun from a case to polish, “That’s what I’m worried about, that she’ll snap again and hurt Andromeda.”

“…Troy won’t let it happen,” the general observed his brother with the gun, “Heh, you have enough for a damn army around here or what?”

Perseus smirked, “Maybe?”

He had to be ready for anything.

Even if it meant putting his life in danger for you against the Calypsos.

\--------000000000-------

It was his fault. It was his damn fault. Troy wanted to scream, anger rising up in him. You had shown up to the warehouse, injured with visible bruises – Tyreen’s doing. You, the one who saved his life and ferocious in the arena, reduced to this?

You couldn’t concentrate when servicing his mechanical arm, cursing and throwing tools across the workshop. Your anger exploded, trashing Troy’s workshop. 

He didn’t scold you for it, instead, he let you get your emotions out. After your meltdown, he proceeded to clean up. Perhaps guilt gnawed at you, he wasn’t sure, but you helped him clean up. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, genuine. He controlled his facial expression to keep it neutral, indulging himself in a bit of your blood before kissing you. You flinched when he touched your cheek. Anger. 

Tyreen didn’t know how good she had it.

**Anger. Rage.**

He watched as Tyreen taunted you about your injuries at the Harvest grounds, feeling disgust at her smirk. Troy scolded her to stop scaring you, the comment riling up his sister. 

“Mind your own damn business,” Tyreen hissed out, then asked you if you were scared. No verbal response, but a headshake of ‘no.’ Troy saw your fists shaking in anger.

Every Crimson Raider he tore apart that night had Tyreen’s face on it.

\---------00000000000-------

Your face showed pure satisfaction as Troy kneaded into your hair, massaging the base of your neck. Sitting on the floor by Troy’s legs in the Calypsos’ living room, the knots on your body were unwinding, lulling the nerves. 

“You.. have… magic… hands…” you whispered, giving the Calypso more access to your upper back.

“Well, technically speaking, I do have a magic hand,” Troy grinned, now massaging your shoulders, “You just haven’t seen it in action for a long while.”

“Troy…!” Tyreen visibly shuddered, disgusted. 

“I didn’t mean it that way, gosh,” he stuck his tongue out with a playful hissing. 

“You were thinking about it,” you said, grinning, “Dirty minded- Ow!” He pinched your shoulder in retaliation. Tyreen stared at you and then at Troy. You swatted his hand away, pouting. 

Relaxed.

No fear. 

/You did hurt her physically./

Tyreen looked at her own hands, frowning. Her attention was brought back when Troy got up from the couch, mumbling about going to the bathroom. Your remained in the same position, watching him leave. 

Shyly, Tyreen went over to you, “Hey.”

“What’s up?” you asked, getting up and sitting on the couch, “Ugh, my butt is numb, that’s what I get for sitting on the floor.” 

“…May I give you a massage?” Tyreen asked, nervous. Your gaze went directly to her hands, the former glint gone on your eyes. 

Discomfort.

“I-I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry…” she quickly fumbled out, “I-I didn’t mean to make you-“ She grew quiet when you patted her on the head, the horrible memories pushed away.

“....I know you are trying… but I still need time…” you whispered, your hand dropping to her cheek, your thumb kneading at her soft skin. She enjoyed the attention, calm. 

She needed to be patient. 

/I don’t love you./

But it hurt seeing you more at ease around Troy. 

/You did hurt her physically./

“I’m sorry…” Tyreen quietly said, placing her hand over yours, “I’m sorry….”

“You can brush my hair, if you’d like,” you offered, Tyreen’s expression changing dramatically.

“Y-Yeah, I would have to go get a brush though,” Tyreen said, standing, “I’ll be back!” She almost tripped on the way down the hallway, nearly crashing into Troy who was coming back.

“Woah, what the hell, what bit her?” Troy asked, plopping down next to you, “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing, just giving her the okay to brush my hair,” you shrugged, placing your legs over Troy’s lap, “That’s all.”

“Ah, cool, cool,” Troy said, patting your legs, “Can you squeeze in her to brush mine as well?”

You laughed, grinning, “Sure, if you finish the massage from earlier.”

He laughed, lifting your leg slightly, “Hehe, as you wish!” 

Troy appreciated you were willing to give Tyreen a helping hand. 

\--------000000000-------

Troy felt nothing as he stood inside his technical, gripping tight the wheel, engine off and in the middle of the night in the wastes. A deep, hot chest pain was swelling up by the minute, his throat dry and tight.

He screamed, tears falling free. 

“H-Helen…” Troy cried out, knuckles white, his body shaking, “HELEN!”

Helen was dead, killed in front of the entire CoV and livestream by his right-hand Donovan at the orders of Tyreen.

You didn’t kill her, even when threatened. 

Your screams. He was dragged out by Badass Psychos, Tyreen staying in the medic room with after you yelled at him for answers.

Troy sobbed, vision hazy from the tears as he kept screaming into the night. Memories of Mikhail, Neika, Morgana, and Charon, gone, dead. 

Dead.

Taken away from him as Tyreen’s shadow grew day by day, eating everything in its path, including Troy. He cursed at his sister, pulling at his hair, frustrated. All he wanted was a small ounce of normalcy that he found in those that were gone. 

Tyreen had everything.

He didn’t. 

Troy slumped to his side on the technical’s seat, sobbing and hiccupping, throwing his EchoNet device to the floor of the co-pilot area, ignoring the incessant ringing. Sleep won, nightmares plaguing him. It went on for a while, sleep – wake up – sleep – nightmare – wake up. He resorted to walking around the wastes, not too far from his technical. Hunger pains kicked in, his mind ignoring it. 

His feet dragged across the dead ground, dust flying everywhere, stinging his eyes. He ignored it.

Troy wished he could ignore things.

He wished he could ignore those feelings to seek comfort. He always ended up hurt. 

He wished he could ignore when love hit him hard across the face. He wished he ignored those smiles, grins, and laughs that came from you.

Maybe you would have been spared Tyreen’s wrath.

“Hello.”

Troy stopped in his tracks, glancing at the technical from the distance. 

Your voice.

“Hello…?”

Troy froze, taking deep breaths. Was his mind playing tricks on him? He dashed towards the vehicle, looking around and zeroing in on the EchoNet device, picking it up. It was a recording playing automatically. He hadn’t touched the device since he left the hub.

“…I miss you…” The recording sounded old and faded. Troy messed with the settings, trying to see how it managed to get into his device. 

Ping!

Anger. 

Someone sent a photo and a video inside the infirmary, Pip was working frantically on you as you thrashed on the operating table in pain. 

Ping!

.:INCOMING MESSAGE:.  
.:???: You and the God Queen will pay for hurting her.  
.:???: Master may be holding back, but I won’t.  
\------00000000000---------

“Its strange seeing them… like this,” Basil commented, checking the EchoNet forums and surveillance feed, “I mean, that’s good news for us? Right?”

“You bet your sweet ass it is, Basil,” Odie said, twirling around a gun, “Unless you want them moping around because of the plaything.”

“Egh, I prefer this,” Basil replied, “I’m sure Donovan is burning up more in Hell.”

Pip cackled, almost coughing up a lung as he held out his cigarette, “Ah, I forgot about the fucker! Too bad there’s no grave of his for me to piss on.”

“We don’t speak of that heathen, Pip,” Moksha said, upset, “Its his damn fault we ran into issues with that organization, Trinity threatening us and all.”

“True, if he hadn’t tried to kill the plaything, we wouldn’t have those outpost attacks,” Basil added, reviewing the chat from the last Let’s Flay.

“Well, we’re most fortunate now, especially with the upcoming trip to the Vault of Power,” Mouthpiece played around with a surveyor bot, opening the back compartment, “We need to be in good graces with the plaything.”

“Speaking of good graces,” Odie began, holding his gun, barrel pointing up, “That will apply to everyone in this room. My order still stands, no one outside of the generals is to know about the intimate relationship between the Twin Gods and the plaything. Anyone who disobeys…” He cocked the gun, smirking, “A bullet will be placed between your eyes, a merciful way to go compared to what the Twin Gods will do to the traitor.”

“Hehehe, aye, captain!” Pip said, raising his cigarette up, “I still have a lot of questions for the plaything.”

“I have no issues with her, all the other mechanics are glad she’s back at the warehouse,” Moksha chuckled. 

“She keeps destroying the arena, but I have no ill against her,” Basil added, sighing, “As long as the next fight doesn’t involve serum-doped bandits, I’m game.”

“I’m looking forward to more matches on her part,” Mouthpiece said, patting the bot, “Gets the crowd pumped up, viewership up the roof!”

“Nice, nice, that’s what I like to hear,” Odie said, licking his lips.

He wasn’t going to let anyone interfere with the Calypsos, his plate full with you.

\----------000000000----------  
You were cold to the touch, he almost confused you for a corpse. Your breathing was shallow, raspy. Troy pulled at his hair, furious. Not too far from him was the culprit of your current state – Tyreen.  
“Troy…” Tyreen’s voice was low.  
He glared at Tyreen, clenching his fists. He then glanced at you.  
“It wasn’t fucking enough ordering to kill Helen… it wasn’t fucking enough beating the mechanic up… Nothing is ever enough for you, isn’t it Tyreen? It always has to be about you…” Troy said, trying to keep calm.

Take. Take. Take.

Tyreen had everything.

Pip walked in, warning him to be more careful handling you.

Tyreen had **taken** everything.

“Get out,” Troy said, directing it to Tyreen.

His sister looked at him, confused.

“GET OUT!” Troy shouted, “GET OUT!” Tyreen then averted her gaze to his hand holding yours. He was no longer hiding his feelings for you.

\-------000000000--------

The your former massive bed didn’t compare with your own back at the hut, but the plush of the new bedsheets felt amazing against you skin. It had been a long day at the warehouse plus hanging out with Perseus and Jackal at the bar that you welcomed an offer by the twins to have dinner at their place and spend the night there. After a quick, warm shower, you were about to call it a day, waking up when the bed shifting under someone’s weight.

“Hey,” Troy whispered, shirtless, but wearing pajama pants, “Woke you up?”

“Hmm….” You sleepily nodded, turning around to face him, “Where’s Tyreen?” You noticed the lack of his mechanical arm as you snuggled against him. His hand found its way into your hair, petting it.

“She’s getting ready for bed, so give her a few,” Troy answered, pulling his hand away, resting it on your shoulder, “Go to sleep.”

“Hngh… okay…” you muttered, closing your eyes, “You’re warm…” Troy chuckled, eyeing the door in your bedroom that opened. Tyreen walked in her purple pajamas, yawning. 

“She beat us to it,” Troy snickered, patting the empty space behind you, “I guess Moksha did give her a hard time at the warehouse, eh?”

Tyreen giggled, rubbing her eyes, “Yeah, but I’m sure Andromeda is content working again.” She pushed the blankets away, making herself comfortable behind you. 

“Heh, yeah,” Troy agreed, pulling up the blankets. Tyreen snuggled against your back, wrapping an arm around your waist. You snorted in your sleep, Tyreen’s hair tickling the back of your neck. 

“….Hey, Ty,” Troy whispered, resting his chin a bit over your head, “..You think… this will work out?”

“I should be asking you that question…” Tyreen quietly replied, “This is my first after all…”

Relationship.

It never crossed their mind they’d be in a situation like this, both falling in love with the same person. You made no protest on the arrangement, only asking that either of them not try to ‘outdo’ the other or do anything malicious to make the other look bad. 

You, as much as Troy and Tyreen did, were done with the fights. 

“I think it will work out,” Troy said, sighing, sleep slowly winning over him, “But I’m afraid…”

“For?” Tyreen asked, glancing up at her brother.

“Trinity.”

Hiding behind your hair, the triangle scar was present, slightly visible to the God Queen. As per Perseus, she never brought the subject up or referenced it. Ever since the raid at the Rat King’s stronghold and the Let’s Flay, the twins never summoned you for answers, instead, leaving it to Odie to check the information gathered from the chats. 

“…I know, me too,” Tyreen confessed as well, “We got her to stay, you know? That’s something.”

“Heh, ‘begrudgingly’ as Odie placed it,” Troy joked, closing his eyes, “We’ll be okay. Night, Ty.”

“Night, little brother,” Tyreen whispered, placing a kiss on the back of your neck.

Tonight, you were the most protected bandit in the wastes.

\---------0000000000--------

You had tried to kill yourself. 

Troy watched as you, while laughing, plunged the scalpel into your neck, calling out to Helen, a gush of blood staining your gown as you fell forward. Tyreen screamed, scrambling to pick you up, hands shaking as she attempted to close the wound. She begged him to help her out. 

Troy was in shock at first before the scent of your blood hit him, his feet moving forward towards Tyreen. She was a sobbing mess, unable to close the wound until he began feeding energy into your body. Little by little, the bleeding stopped, a loud gasp from your frail body spooking the twins. 

Everything was a blur afterwards, he only remembered slapping Tyreen and dragging her out of the room while Pip and the medics provided aid to you. Despite her protests, Troy never let her in. Realizing she was not getting her way this time, she left, covered in your blood. 

Troy paced back and forth outside the room, waiting on Pip. The medic general emerged, pissed off and exhausted.

“I swear if that fucker found out what happened tonight, you bet your ass we’d all be dead,” Pip hissed out, taking out a cigarette, struggling to light it up, “You two managed to close the gash, I did some stitching on it, but I’ll have to start a transfusion, she lost a lot of blood.”

“Pip, tha-“ Pip’s glare shut him up. Several medics exited your room, carrying bloody sheets and your gown. Troy managed to peek inside, finding you resting on the hospital bed, cleaned up. 

“Don’t. The last thing she needs is someone hogging her breathing space,” Pip growled out, “I’m trying to keep this damn place alive and you and Tyreen are really pushing it.”

“Watch your mouth, Pip,” Troy snapped back, “Your fucking fault for letting Tyreen in.”

“Oh, right, because I was tasked in keeping a leash on the God Queen,” Pip huffed, taking a drag from cigarette, “I thought that was your job, Father Troy.”

“You-“

“It wasn’t enough with the others, right?” Pip said, visibly irritated, “I still haven’t forgiven you about Charon. Bright kid that fucking knew about your body mods and all of a sudden, winds up sent elsewhere, fuck if I know if he’s still alive with how our turnover rate goes around these parts.”

Troy looked away, storming off. 

You weren’t going to be part of that death list.

\------0000000------

Wandering the Cathedral’s courtyard, you stood in front of Helen’s grave, admiring your work after cleaning up the weeds and shifting the soil around for the flowers. It had become a ritual for you to visit her every few days and drink, telling her what was going on with your life. As much as you liked Perseus and Jackal, you wanted to give them a break from your ‘existence,’ especially with the news of the Calypsos being in a relationship with you.

Taking out a bottle of rakk-ale, you dumped the liquid on Helen’s grave. The flowers, who once flinched away from it, now awaited the liquid. You snickered as they swayed around, mimicking a drunk person.

“Wow, managed to get you all drunk…” you mused, sitting next to the grave, taking out your own bottle, “I’m a bad influence…. Right, Prophet Odie?” 

Odie laughed, stepping into view from the bushes on the side of the Cathedral, “Yeah, dirty minded and all. Sup, plaything.”

“Sup, headache,” you taunted, taking a sip from your drink. You tossed a bottle at the general, watching him catch it, “Don’t worry, its not tainted.”

“I doubt you’d waste good booze,” Odie replied, sitting across from you, taking off the metal cap, “You have standards.”

“That, I do, heh, cheers,” you held out your bottle, Odie clanking it against yours, “To a somewhat shaky but okay friendship between the two of us.”

“Don’t tell the Calypsos about our hot, steamy affair, Andromeda,” Odie winked, causing you snort loudly then laugh, “Its what’s keeping this place up and running.”

“And you call me the bad influence,” you replied, downing your drink, “Pray tell, Prophet Odie, are you doing around these parts?”

“Ah, just here, keeping an eye on you, the usual,” Odie shrugged as if its normal, taking a sip of booze, “You always visit her?”

You nodded, patting the gravestone, “Yeah, I doubt Helen likes Donovan’s company, his douchebaggery goes to his head, if you know what I mean.” Odie eyed the crystallized skull then at you, grinning.

“Heh, I’m still sad I didn’t get to punch him before Jackal killed him,” Odie lamented, downing his drink, “If only I was called back earlier, maybe…”

You never asked Perseus why his brother was sent away while he remained in the hub after finding out about Odie’s existence. Maybe the man himself would be willing to answer.

“…..Why you were sent away? What did you do? I mean, you make it sound like you did something bad, usually traitor bandits end up dead,” you asked, playing with your bottle. Odie smiled sadly, looking away.

“Helen.”

You blinked, “Helen…? Don’t tell me you-“

“Troy found out I liked Helen… I was an idiot and never picked up on his attraction to her… he sent me away so he could have her,” Odie said, sighing, “When I saw that Let’s Flay with her… It doesn’t matter anymore, she’s gone.” 

“And yet you protect Troy,” you muttered, trying to control your tone, “Ever devoted.” A pathetic fool.

“Like she was,” Odie protested, “She didn’t know I liked her, or if she did, she didn’t say anything… Troy was always around her. Probably didn’t want me to get in trouble as it was pretty common back then… I’d get into fights with Donovan. That was the excuse Troy used to convince Tyreen to send me on exile.” 

He took out the switchblade he used on the previous encounter with you, twirling the item through his nimble fingers. Up close, you could see the delicate design work done on the wooden surface: a buzz-axe with a rendering of a ribcage. A name was partially visible on the side, worn out: An----. 

Before you could ask about the name, Odie spoke, “Helen gave me this before I was sent away… Said ‘to keep me out of trouble wherever I went…’” He flicked his wrist, the blade coming out, another engraving visible along the blunt edge.

_Always with you, Jac---_

“….What shitty luck… You probably would have made her happy…” you said, taking out two more bottles, “Shitty luck we both have.” You handed the other bottle to Odie, raising yours up.

“Aye, shitty luck for everyone, including the Calypsos,” Odie said, “Unfortunate they love you.”

“I know,” you replied, both you and Odie downing your drinks. Cheers to the ones putting up with the Twin Gods.

\-------000000000------

“She loved you,” your first words to him in a long time. 

She did and so did he. A long time ago, the love dying off – never clicking again. 

Fight.

Leave.

Reconcile. 

“I know,” Troy said. 

‘But I love you,’ is what he wanted to say as well, but refrained. He was no idiot, knowing you despised him.  
“Cut the nice act… Thinking you can just come in and butter me up with your pretty words and actions… You disgust me…” you spat out, tears of anger falling down your face. Troy stared at you. The ugly scar near your collarbone glaring back at him.  
“W-What did Helen tell you…?” Troy asked. His ex-lover held a lot of resentment towards him.  
“She only confirmed my suspicions on everything going on in here, not that it matters any way. In here, I’m a dead woman, out there the same…” you said, angry.  
Troy reached out to touch your cheek, seeing you recoil before he pressed his lips against yours.

**SLAP!**

“Helen was right, you are a piece of shit. If you weren’t such a fucking child, she’d still be alive!” you shouted, agitated. Troy ignored the pain in his cheek, attempting to hug you. He was met with resistance until he broke down in your arms, sobbing. Years of dealing with heartbreaks and hurting Helen in a destructive cycle, culminated in a desperate attempt to cling on to something he thought wouldn’t be taken away from him. 

**Something to protect from Tyreen.**

“I couldn’t save her… I couldn’t save the others…” Troy cried out, “I won’t repeat the same mistake with you…”

Your next words cut deep in him.

“It’s too late, Troy. Go find someone else to play with.” Broken.

Hate. Anger.

Fight. Leave. Reconcile. Not this time.

\------000000000-----

“Ow… Ow… OW!” you whined as Perseus continued pinching your cheeks, “S-Stop!”

“Nope! You owe me this one for almost giving me a heart attack!” Perseus hissed out, “Do you know how difficult it was to explain to the God Queen about your ring?! I thought she was going throttle me!”

“I thought we were married, Perseus!” you complained, finally rubbing your cheeks as Perseus pulled away.

“I dissolved the marriage on grounds that you were cheating on him with his bosses,” Jackal laughed, high-fiving Perseus, “Odie was witness to your activities and provided evidence.”

You gasped, “I-I was going to tell you…! Eventually…” Perseus reached out again to pinch your cheek but you jumped away, fake sobbing. 

“I thought you told her about the ring,” Perseus said, crossing his arms. 

“And have her get jealous? No thanks!” you sighed, rubbing your forehead, “She’s been getting envious of Troy lately, but hasn’t acted out.”

“Hmm… true, I’ve seen her a bit frustrated during the sermons,” Jackal chipped in, “But she can’t fault you for being wary of her.” Ongoing work-in-progress for the God Queen. 

“Tell that to her,” you replied, picking up the black heart Troy gifted you, “I think it’s more of Perseus and Troy giving me something to wear and she hasn’t that’s got her in that mood.”

“Aside from that… noticed anything different?” Jackal asked.

“About?” you let go of the necklace charm, both you and Perseus glancing at the priest.

“Here in the hub? Morale has gone up,” Jackal continued, gesturing outside, “Cultists have been more eager, so to speak, to deliver mayhem in the name of the Calypsos. You should have seen Troy’s enthusiasm at yesterday’s sermon.”

“So that’s what the screaming was all about,” Perseus said, “Wondered why a group of psychos were on flames rushing out of the Cathedral. I thought we were under attack.”

“Pft, that’s a regular morning sermon for us, right Jackal?” you giggled, swinging your legs.

“Regular indeed,” the priest added, “…You’ve certainly had an effect on them, Andromeda.”

“….” You looked down at the floor, “Time will tell if it’s a good one, eh?”

“Yep,” Perseus said, “No matter what, you still got us backing you up.” Jackal nodded, grinning.

You smiled, “Thanks guys.”

Your shitty lucky was slowly wearing off.

\-----0000000-------

He felt a rush when he saw Tyreen’s look of horror when he threatened her. Troy was done playing games with her after you were hurt again. 

“I’m going to hit you where it hurts the most, just you wait,” Troy hissed out, storming off. His sister called out to him, her words falling on deaf ears. He wanted to see her suffer just like he had years ago, experiencing excruciating heartbreaks. It helped you loathed Tyreen, making his plan 10x easier to execute. 

And all he needed was a willing participant, the source of Tyreen’s intense jealousy: Perseus.

He had heard about Tyreen’s spat with Moksha in banning the man from getting near you at the warehouse. The general had protested initially but a swift flare from the God Queen’s Siren tattoos quickly changed her mind, following Tyreen’s command. The mechanic, alongside you, also saved his life during the Atlas stronghold raid, had gotten more trouble than what it was worth by just knowing you. Troy wanted to laugh at Tyreen’s tantrums. Sure, he admitted Perseus was attractive and all, but from the few times he’d seen the man with you, it was hardly any reason to hate the poor guy.

The Calypso recalled Perseus mingling about the warehouse late nights with you when he’d go bother you, gambling to catch him to enact his plan immediately. As he entered the warehouse, Troy watched as Perseus fixed up your workbench, jumping when the Calypso banged on the side of a tool cart to get his attention.

“F-Father Troy, may I help you?” Perseus asked, bowing. 

Troy glanced at him and then at your workbench, then back at Perseus.

“I… uh, I was only tidying up… the mechanic hasn’t returned back to her post… but I know she will… eventually…” Perseus said, extremely nervous. Troy grinned. 

**A friend.**

You detested everything CoV related, but eventually made a friend. That’s what Tyreen was jealous of, a friend of yours. 

“Heh, how nice of you,” Troy said, teasing tone, “You really care for your friend, huh?”

Perseus remained quiet, but nodded. Troy could sense his fear and – anger. No doubt directed towards Tyreen if he saw your initial injuries while the Calypso was AWOL. 

“Listen, she’s been in a bad mood lately, your friend,” Troy said, seeing Perseus perk up at the mention of you, “I’m sure your presence will help her. Finish here and I will send Jackal to fetch you.”

“M-Me..?” Perseus asked, pointing at himself, “I-Is it.. The God Queen ordered for me… to stay away…”

Tyreen.

Troy smiled, part of his sharp teeth showing, “Don’t worry about her, you’re under my protection. You saved my life, I owe you one. I’m ever graceful and benevolent, you know?”

Perseus seemed unsure, though he nodded again before he went off to finish his cleaning. Troy watched the man go about his business before departing the warehouse, smirking.

This was going to be fun, Troy thought. 

The moment Perseus stepped into your room in the infirmary, Troy got a bit envious at your reaction. Just a tiny bit, at least he understood you needed a break from him and Tyreen. You managed to get out of bed, but stumbled forward with Perseus catching you. He gasped when you hugged him tight, returning the gesture. Jackal glanced at Troy, then ventured over to you and the mechanic. 

The Calypso looked down at the ground. 

“H-Holy shit, you’re okay!” Perseus said, leading you back to your bed, “I-I was worried, I thought you…”

“Still breathing… for now,” you said, coughing, “Good to see a different face around here.” Perseus grinned but then remembered who else was in the room before calming down. Troy, who was now sitting at a chair by the entrance, raised his eyebrow.

“No need to thank me, plaything,” Troy said, annoyed. You rolled your eyes, tugging at Perseus’s arm to sit at your bed. Troy tuned in on your conversation, then saw you show Perseus the stitches. 

Anger.

Troy had another thing in common with the man. Perseus was visibly disgusted and upset, side-glancing at Troy and then back at you before responding to your questions about the warehouse. It was obvious the man wanted to say something but bit back due Troy’s presence. He was no ordinary, idiot bandit. 

Jackal eventually joined the conversation, surprising Troy that he was being cordial with you despite what happened with Helen. He was alarmed when the priest to verbally berated him at the infirmary when Pip was operating on you. Anger. Anger. Anger. Jackal and Perseus had gotten attached to you.

And so did you towards them. 

Attachment.

Troy observed the group, feeling the odd one out. He wanted to join, hesitant.

“What’s he doing here?”

Oh, Tyreen. All eyes were on her as she barged in, growling and glaring at Perseus.

The fun starts here.

\-------000000000----------

[Beep….]

[Beep….]

[Beep….] [Message received in TERMINAL 45.44.345.3]  
[Extracting File Log XxX.XXX.XXXX.X]

.:Log XxX.XXX.XXXX.X  
_‘Steady progress has been made in the shipment of Maliwan gun parts. The CoV has nearly completed assembling their guns. Her Majesty has returned to work in the warehouses, her supervisors noticing the modifications she’s made on the guns. Instructions have been sent out to modify the guns based on her specifications._

_As for the other matter, no low-ranking cultists have suspected the relationship between Her Majesty and the Calypsos. Odysseus has been relentless in keeping that information hidden. Despite that, I have been able to keep close contact to her when possible. Tyreen Calypso has been the one around her majority of the time compared to Troy Calypso._

_So far, Her Majesty hasn’t been summoned to answer questions regarding the Vault of Power or messages sent via chat by Master. Will keep a close eye on the situation._

[Beep… END OF MESSAGE]

“What are you playing at?” a robotic voice sounded off, “You were near her and yet you didn’t bring her back as you promised…”

[Beep…]

Metal doors swished open, a gust of cold air hitting the guest entering the expansive room. Brutus walked inside, careful on the wires and machines littering the entire place. He knelt down, bowing his head, warm breath forming as he spoke, “Lady Blue, I have come as you requested.”

[Beep…]

“Brutus… retrieve her at all costs… you have your orders,” the robotic voice said, a blue hologram of a small child appearing before Brutus, “If you come across the Calypsos, kill them…”

“Yes, my Lady,” Brutus said, “I shall depart at once.” He stood up, leaving. The girl’s hologram glitched, her voice echoing in the room. 

“You’re a sick man, papa,” the little girl said, angry.

All she wanted was her _mummy_ back.

\-------00000000------

Troy’s face did not hide the enthusiasm he was experiencing watching Tyreen seething next to him. A few times he grabbed her from approaching you, yanking her back into the seat in the courtyard, scolding her. She couldn’t stand the sight of Perseus near you, the jealousy too obvious for those around. 

This is what he meant by hurting her.

All those times she took away his lovers… now payback for it. And he was savoring it. 

“They look cute together, don’t they?” Troy taunted Tyreen, smirking as she growled. He was dealing low blows. Slowly, Tyreen’s composure was crumbling before him. 

She’d curse under her breath

Then she bolted towards you and Perseus, Troy immediately after her. She shouted at Perseus, trying to harm him, only to meet the end of Helen’s dagger in your hands. Troy’s patience wore out. He dragged Tyreen out of the courtyard and into the Harvest grounds where he punched her, splitting his jaw open, growling. 

Tyreen rolled over, gasping for air, snarling at Troy, “You little shit! You piece of shit! I bet you feeling fucking smug about this!” 

“Bitch, you think you can just do whatever the fuck you want?!” Troy shouted, barging forward, “Its your fucking fault we got attacked!” He landed another punch, knocking Tyeen back. She managed to kick him, causing him to hunch over, grabbing his stomach. They traded blows and kicks, splatters of blood covering the ground. The generals all converged in the area, arms ready, waiting for the Calypsos to wear themselves out. 

For once, Troy had the upper hand, pummeling Tyreen to the surprise of everyone present. He left her on the ground, tossing a red vial at her before making his way to their living quarters. If she wasn’t his sister… it would have gone a different away. A gruesome end to the God Queen.

He went to check on you afterwards, dealing with your anger.

You were livid.

You questioned why he dragged Perseus into his fight with Tyreen, provoking her jealousy. Troy was amused when you threatened him, even in your weakened statement, reminding him of the first day you were in the CoV. But then he got irked, furious when you brought up Helen, throwing it at his face how you viewed yourself as her replacement. 

But then you mentioned the playthings.

Tyreen’s playthings.

 **The ones he killed.** Helen had told you what happened to them. Plus, how Troy wooed her.

Helen.

Fight.

Leave. 

Reconcile.

Even after Troy confessed what he saw in you, you rejected him.

“Better work more on your pretty words, Troy,” you whispered, taunting him.

\-------0000000-------

Classical music was ruined for you, years in Trinity causing you hate it as it was the favorite of many of the corporate bigwigs to play during the fights. It didn’t help there was always a live orchestra playing that, at times, ended up splashed with blood, courtesy of your doing. Ironically, you found the rock music playing in Tyreen’s EchoNet device more soothing. 

“At least its not Troy’s beatboxing, he probably had you listen to it in his workshop, right?” Tyreen said, resting her head on your shoulder. You and Tyreen were on her bed, yourself sitting on her lap, her arms wrapped around your waist. The warehouse was a chaotic scene, everyone exhausted as the last batch of Maliwan guns was almost complete. By her part, the God Queen’s day alongside Troy’s was crazy with the other outposts sending out scouts to conduct surveillance on the Vault of Power’s location. 

“Yeah,” you chuckled, giggling as Tyreen brushed her lips against your neck, “I probably have the actual tune memorized already… oh…” Tyreen’s grip on your waist tightened, causing you to gasp. You turned your head, meeting her lips as she kissed you. She wasn’t aggressive like her old self, parting briefly to gaze in your eyes. 

“Got carried away?” she asked, smiling. 

“A little,” you grinned, “I admit I was caught off guard when you held me tighter…”

“Sorry…” Tyreen mumbled, hiding her face on the back of your neck, “I didn’t mean to scare you…”

“Its all good,” you patted her hands, chuckling, “I-I’m not ready for.. you know..”

Sexual intimacy. 

“I-I didn’t mean to come off like that…” Tyreen admitted, eyes widen when she realized what she said, “D-Don’t make a joke of that comment!”

You giggled, gazing back to see Tyreen pouting, “That’s a Troy thing, not me, pft! Aw, you look cute with your pouty cheeks!” Reaching back, you pinched her cheek, Tyreen yelping and nipping your hand as you pulled away, laughing. Taking the opportunity, you kissed her back, the Siren Calypso startled but leaning forward, returning it. 

You turned around, facing her, wrapping your arms around her neck, intensifying more the kiss, feeling Tyreen’s hands rest on your back, bringing you closer to her. The God Queen’s eagerness was on full display, taking caution on not being rough, her hands gripping tight at your shirt. She was pleased in hearing a small moan from you, relishing it. 

Parting away for air, breathless, she grinned at you, noticing your blushing cheeks.

“Aw, you look cute with your pink cheeks,” Tyreen teased, throwing back at you the earlier comment about her. You chuckled, shaking your head, “I’ll pinch yours if you don’t behave.”

She pulled you back down on the bed, snuggling up to you, “Alright, alright, I’ll behave!” You messed with her hair, getting comfortable as Tyreen pulled up the blankets to cover you and her. 

“We have a long day tomorrow,” Tyreen said, seeing you yawn.

“Ugh… yeah… Do I have to be there for the serum tests? Prophet Pip has that under control…” you adjusted yourself as Tyreen wrapped her arm around your chest, “I rather be in the warehouse…”

“Heh, well, he wanted to test out the new capsule mods you made,” Tyreen explained, yawning, “Me and Troy will be there in case he gets weird.”

“Hehe, but he’s fun like that,” you mused, slowly falling asleep, “Fun times….”

“Heh, yeah,” Tyreen agreed, smiling. She heard your breathing even out, sign of your deep sleep. Tonight, she considered you reciprocating the kiss as a victory. She jumped when a loud guitar riff played.

“….Aw shit, I forgot to pause the music,” Tyreen muttered, realizing the music kept playing behind her, “Ugh….!” She ‘eeped’ when you chucked over a pillow, knocking the EchoNet device off the nightstand, stopping the music.

“So loud…” you mumbled, resting your head on top of Tyreen’s, “So fucking loud…”

Tyreen giggled at your antics, snuggling more to you, “Fun times…”

Fun times indeed, even though she was a living a lie with you.

\--------00000000------

You had recovered well enough to return to your hut, not that it mattered to Troy. The Calypso found himself barred from your room after the incident, Jackal keeping you company during the nights. He kept his distance, feeling your intense hostility. Majority of it was directed at Tyreen. His sister was at her wits end, wanting to approach you. Those were the parts he enjoyed seeing.

After the raid at the Junker’s camp, things escalated when he and Tyreen voiced their disapproval of you fighting in the arena. You were on edge, not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Not even Pip’s threats worked on you. Defeated, Troy didn’t try to intervene, believing you weren’t going to listen either way.

But you also revealed you knew about the ‘Master’ that had been taunting him and Tyreen and the fate of the outpost attacks.

The Let’s Flay ended up receiving a lot of fanfare and more attention from Master and at the end, Troy – and Tyreen – got what they wanted, partially: **Answers from you.**

Trinity, an organization that worked with corporations and politicians, influencing corporate decisions and heavily into the industry of body modifications and experiments with a side gig: Betting and fights. You revealed Cepheus and the ‘Rat King’ bandit lord were your handlers while your ‘owner’ Master paraded you around as a fighter in his name. 

Survival. 

You weren’t taught to survive, you were taught to kill and destroy your targets. He had pushed Helen in that direction, his fault for the breakdown of her psyche. For you, it was second nature. A dangerous one.

Troy, by his part, killed to strike fear and for his own entertainment. Polar opposites. A huge urge overcame the Calypso: comfort. He wanted to comfort you. The guilt that existed from Helen’s death was present, he wanted to step in and not be on the sidelines or walk away as previously. 

**He was done running away.**

\-----0000000-----

“Good morning, ladies!” Troy chirped, beelining his way towards you, giving you a quick peck on the cheek, “Slept well?” You grinned, poking Troy on the chest.

“Heh, yeah, though I might have broken Tyreen’s EchoNet device,” you pointed out, Tyreen holding out her device with a hanging cover port, “On accident.”

“Pft, the rock music? I thought that was in my dreams,” Troy said, grabbing the device from Tyreen, “Eh, Basil will fix it up, though he won’t be pleased to hear you destroyed it, Andromeda.”

“Broken, not DESTROYED,” you protested, huffing, crossing your arms.

“You know Basil will think otherwise, right?” Tyreen teased, earning a playful glare from you. 

“Bah!” you raised your arms up, walking away from them, “Just because I destroy the arena doesn’t mean I destroy other things!” The twins snickered, following you into the morgue area of the infirmary where Pip awaited them. 

“Come on, Ratch-boo, we are trying to back you up!” Troy continued, getting a questioning look from Tyreen.

“Ratch-boo…? What the hell,” Tyreen stifled a giggle, “How did you come up with that nickname?”

“Andromeda suggested it,” Troy smirked, seeing you flip him off in the distance, “Along with Little Skaggie!”

“I was joking!” you yelled, entering one of the operation rooms.

“Too late!” Troy yelled back, him and Tyreen entering the area. Pip raised an eyebrow at the yelling, giving everyone awkward stares.

“I hope its nothing explicit,” Pip said, pushing his glasses up, “Too early in the morning for this.”

“Nicknames are explicit business for Troy,” you mused, eyeing the new capsule mods on trays laid before Pip, “Huh, these the news one from the blueprints I gave you?”

“Yeah, we already have some psychos and Goliaths with these models, anything we should expect during the trial tests?” Pip asked, bringing out hologram feed of the Harvest grounds. Basil and Moksha were watching over a small group of psychos and two Goliaths, waiting for orders.

You tapped your chin with a fingertip, deep in thought, “If you mean one of them going crazy, I doubt it. The capsules should only dispense serum based on the metabolism of the user’s body naturally. The ones used on Jesters have a port that allows outside sources to tap and manually trigger a higher dosage into their bodies.”

“That’s why their bodies mutate grotesquely, right?” Troy asked.

You nodded, “Such a rapid increase causes them to lose control of their mind, thus the use of those red surveyors to control them.”

“What about the Rat King? He managed to do that on his own,” Tyreen added, Pip displaying the feed of the raid.

“….His was specially made. He had gauntlet that would allow him to control the dosage at certain intervals,” you explained, blinking, “Speaking of which… he didn’t have that…?”

“Ah, well, funny story… Trinity took it away from him… or rather this Brutus guy did…” Troy said, surprised at your expression. Your eyes went wide.

“B-Brutus…?” you asked, slowly, “You met him…?” The twins and Pip were confused at your fearful tone. 

“Yeah, he was in the Rat King’s stronghold… that fucker Master asked for the gauntlet in exchange for us to be able to keep the Rat King,” Tyreen hissed out, getting angry, “We had no choice, Odie called the shots on that.”

“….Odie did well…” you whispered, looking a bit pale, “Brutus… he’s not someone you want to deal with…”

“We could have certainly taken him on!” Troy insisted, pausing short of his outburst when Tyreen placed her hand on his arm, shaking her head, then gestured towards you. 

“Even with the weapons Perseus and I created… it’d be too much… believe me,” you replied, out of breath, “He’s not a Jester… I’ve been out of shape for a long time, I myself wouldn’t be able to take him on.”

Did they hear right? An admission of defeat?

“What exactly is his gimmick?” Pip asked, freezing the raid feed to show Brutus. You stared at the hologram display, gulping. Troy ventured over to you, holding your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, easy, he’s not here, remember?” Troy said, aiming to calm you down. You nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Y-Yeah, you’re right…” you held on tight to Troy’s hand, “Brutus has had extensive body modifications… all that’s left of his ‘human’ self is his brain…” 

“What kind?” Tyreen asked, “The Jesters had those weird bloodshot eyes and elongated bodies…”

“He has rapid regeneration due to his special ability… which is-“

_“S-Shit, shit, HEY! We got incoming! South of the wastes!”_

Pip’s feed switched to show Odie, frightened, “What is going?!” Troy took out his EchoNet device, patching Odie through.

“Odie, what the hell?! You’re breaking up!” Troy shouted.

 _”Fuck if I know Troy, that guy is here!”_ Odie yelled, his deep breathing loud through the audio, _”That fucking Brutus guy has been spotted south of the wastes! He’s heading this way!”_

The feed switched to the surveyor bot used by the scouts, giving a glimpse of Brutus walking forward, a large dust cloud covering the area. You covered your mouth, shaking. Troy wrapped an arm around you, keeping you close. Tyreen went over, shielding you from the feed. 

“N-No fucking way…” Troy hissed out, “Alert everyone now! All available hands to the front gates!”

 _”Troy… he’s not alone…”_ Odie said, voice shaky. 

“Oh no….” Pip whispered, shaking his head, stepped back from the display, “T-That’s way too many…”

Tyreen froze, eyes wide. You tried to peek, but she blocked you from viewing. An intense terror swept up the Calypsos at the sight of at least hundreds of Jesters following Brutus. The grey-skinned man paused his walk, looking up at the surveyor.

Smiling.

The last image was of a Jester leaping to destroy the bot.

\-------0000000000------

Donovan.

Bandit code of honor? Where? Every man for himself in this horrible world. But yet, among Gods, Donovan grew too comfortable. Troy wanted nothing more than to destroy the man but there was a thin line that couldn’t be crossed: Cultists learning about infighting between their Gods and generals. 

When Troy found out about Donovan’s plan to kill Helen, which the general succeeded on, and intent to finish you off, he enlisted the help of his own enemy: Tyreen. 

“That fucker…” Tyreen growled out, clenching her fists, “Making a mockery out of us… Its his damn fault for this mess…” The God Queen’s own feelings were all over the place, hurting over your rejection. 

“We’re going to kill him,” Troy said, finally happy that he’d get to avenge Helen.

But it didn’t turn out that way.

As Troy saw Donovan desperately crawl away to escape after you brutalized the man and the heathen general’s brains were blown out by Jackal, a deep void ate his anger, nothing replacing the empty feeling of dissatisfaction. The priest that had saved his life as a child had delivered the final blow to Donovan.

You gave it to the priest. 

Troy glanced at the emerald gun in Jackal’s hand.

 **Helenite, “Green with Envy.”** Snakes were engraved on the barrel of the gun, Troy’s sigil.

The woman who never stopped loving Troy had your _pity._

**Had your attention.**

\--------000000000--------

“TAKE YOUR GUNS, GIVE YOUR FLESH, TONIGHT WE FIGHT FOR THE GLORY OF THE CALYPSOS!” Mouthpiece’s voice reverberated through the speakers across the hub, airhorns sounding off, “DESTROY THE HEATHENS WHO DARE TRAMPLE ON THE TWIN GODS’ DREAMS! SHRED, TEAR, KILL THEM ALL!”

“For the Calypsos!” cultists shouted, guns in hands, rushing forward to the main square. Perseus pushed through the crowd, making his way to the Cathedral, cursing under his breath. He wasn’t able to see you in the morning, the meeting with the Calypsos set for today regarding the serum trials. His gut screamed that something was horribly wrong with the emergency raid call and he needed to get ready.

“JACKAL!” Perseus barged into the study, seeing Jackal taking out the guns stashed under the floorboards, “Jackal! What is going on?! I can’t contact my brother! They are rounding up everyone!”

The priest took out a shotgun, pumping it up, “We got enemies heading over this way…. Perseus… I think its…”

“Trinity,” Perseus finished for him, shocked, “N-No way… M-My brother said that Cetus guy had promised no retaliation for what Andromeda did!”

“I’m not sure, but we got to get ready,” Jackal said, tossing several guns at the man, “We need to equip as many cultists as we can with your weapons. You modified this with that corrosive capsule mod?”

“Y-Yeah, shit, I-I… we need to locate Andromeda!” the mechanic grabbed your digistructors and mask, placing them inside his leather bag, “Here, Jackal!” He tossed the priest another digistructor.

“You holding out on me?” Jackal joked, digistructing the guns away in the electronic item. 

Perseus held out another one, putting away his own stash of guns, “Been working on these in secret, for whatever happens with the Calypsos… Here goes nothing…!”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jackal readied up, holding out the Helenite gun. The duo left the Cathedral, several priests following them on the way. Cultists began setting up crude barricades to defend and shoot from, selecting areas to cover. Mouthpiece’s voice still rang out across the hub, void of any rowdy activity as all awaited the enemy. 

Perseus climbed up a concrete pillar, bringing out a sniper rifle, steadying, and viewing down the scope. The sight at the end of his view chilled him. 

“Holy shit… they are more this time …” Perseus said, suddenly shaking. Jackal glanced up at him, then down by the main gates that had been shut closed and double barricaded. Frantic footsteps alerted him of passersby, the generals rushing forward with their guns out. 

“No matter what happens, KEEP THAT FUCKING GATE CLOSED!” Basil shouted, holding his rocket launcher, “SNIPERS! EYES SHARP!”

Moksha whistled, the tower turrets coming back online, aiming forward. Odie stared at the gates, moments passing by slowly. Thoughts raced by the second in his mind, trying to figure out what was happening. From the information he gathered from Troy’s report and your past, Cetus was not the type to act out of line.

“PK….” Odie whispered, ignoring the pain of his eyes going dry, “This is your doing… isn’t it…?”

The one responsible for the previous outpost attacks.

He jumped when the turrets began shooting outside the gates, wails of pain echoing. Several cultists jolted in place, others trying their best to ignore the screams and screeching being shouted at the other side of the walls. 

“Fuck… Fuck…. Fuck….” Basil chanted, labored breathing, “If this is it… It was nice fighting alongside you all….”

“Shut up Basil… We are not dying here…” Moksha muttered, holding her assault rifle, “W-We can handle this… the Twin Gods will protect us…”

A Siren that was unable to leech Jesters. A Siren that was close to death by a Jester.

Odie glanced behind him, the Fanatics mingling behind, waiting on orders. The small batch of Fanatics were fitted with the new capsule mods, the general gambling that they’d be enough to at least keep the Jesters at bay until Pip was able to administer more mods on other cultists. 

_**BANG!** _

A huge dent showed on the main gates, the turrets gunning down the intruders.

_**BANG!** _

Perseus gripped tight his sniper, fear present in him. The Jesters he saw terrified him, their smiles and bloodshot eyes bringing back horrible memories of the Atlas raid where Troy almost died and he’d seen your sadistic side. 

_**BANG!** _

Jackal patted the Helenite, whispering under his breath for Helen to look after him. The other priests near him were reciting a small prayer. The priest believed today he’d meet his maker if this fight was the mother of them all. 

_**BANG!** _

The metal gates flew wide open, the screeching noise of the bent gears grinding against the hinges. A dust cloud picked up, the turrets still unleashing on the intruders. 

“EVERYONE READY!” Odie shouted, lifting his gun up. All readied up, the Fanatic Goliaths roaring while the Fanatic Psychos screeched. 

“Hehehe….”

A smile.

The same smile you displayed in the Harvest grounds.

A Jester stumbled forward, bloody from the forehead. From behind it, others twitched, their own foreheads swollen and bruised, the group responsible for breaking down the metal gates. 

“Hehehee…..!” they jeered, pausing just past the gates, giggling more.

“What the fuck are those?!” a cultist shouted.

Odie stared forward, gritting his teeth, “UNLOAD ON THOSE FUCKING BASTARDS! GO! GO! GO!” The Fanatics rushed forward, the cultists raining bullets on the Jesters. The creatures wailed in pain, roaring as they lunged forward. Basil steadied an aim, shooting a rocket at a cluster of Jesters, some getting their limbs torn apart. Moksha fired at the heads of several Jesters, shouting out commands at the cultists. Jackal managed to land hits, stunning them for the turrets to finish the creatures off. 

“DON’T LET THEM FURTHER INTO THE HUB!” Odie yelled, shooting, “RIP’EM APART!”

“FOR THE CALYPSOS!” the cultists hollered, guns blazing and throwing grenades. The Jesters jumped around, tearing into any cultists they could reach, meeting the end of gun barrels of those that managed to get near, their brains blown apart. The Fanatics pummeled the crazed Jesters at the gates, stalling the second wave of the creatures. 

“FEED’EM LEAD!” Moksha shouted, the turrets targeting the Jesters outside the hub. 

What felt like an eternity was a split second of pure chaos and death, the ground littered with limbs, blood, and corpses. Odie stabbed a Jester, managing to avoid the deadly mouthful of razor-sharp teeth, a bullet going through the creature’s head. The general looked around, noticing Perseus shooting down on the Jesters. The creature that tried to bite Odie screamed in pain, its skin melting.

The corrosive liquid mod.

“It hurts…! Master! It hurts…!” the Jester wailed, its face dissolving away, exposing the skull. Odie jammed his gun into the creature’s mouth, pressing the trigger. 

“Fucking shit…!” Odie hissed out, pushing the body off from him, “Where’s that fucker?!” 

Brutus. 

The surveyor bots were unable to keep up with the grey-skinned man, the Jesters destroying the bots. 

Odie radioed in Mouthpiece, panicking, “Mouthpiece, fucking get me a visual on that fucker Brutus! ASAP!” He got a confirmation from the general. 

The man was not meant to be fought, Odie thought frantically. 

\--------0000000--------

“I saw myself in her,” you sobbed out, emotional, a first for Troy. You hanged around the Cathedral’s courtyard, fixing up Helen’s grave and making sure no one looted Donovan’s severed head. Macabre or an ode to the former priestess? 

“Both of us losing ourselves to pieces of filth,” you hissed out, wiping your tears. An offering, that’s what it was. You knew the pain Helen went through.

Troy’s heart squeezed tight, his throat dry. 

He wanted to comfort you, to tell you everything will be okay, that things can change. 

**You wanted nothing to do with Troy.**

You were Master’s ex-lover.

_Broken._

Just like Helen.

\--------00000000--------

Pip and Tyreen had rushed out of the morgue, intent on setting up more Fanatics while Odie held the first wave of enemies to buy time. Troy was to meet up with the other generals to assist in the fight, his main concern was making sure you’d be safe.

“You better not leave this place, this used to be an old Dahl bunker,” Troy explained, wrapping a blanket around your shivering form, “Do. Not. Leave. The. Morgue.”

“B-But… There’s too many Jesters!” you protested, scared, “B-Brutus is out there, h-he’s not going to stop until he completes his mission...!” The man was hard-headed, following orders to the letter, no matter the risk.

Troy gently grabbed your face, “Look at me, we’re going to be fine. We have the other outposts coming in to provide backup as we speak. We will get through this.” Your nerves were on overdrive.

“T-Troy, you don’t understand…” you winced, holding your head, the ringing noise coming back, “Ugh… just…” 

“Andromeda, focus…” Troy said, “Whatever you do, don’t give in to that feeling…”

“W-What?” you stared up at him.

“You’re struggling to keep that lust to beat up those Jesters, I felt you react when the feed was shown,” Troy explained, now gripping your shoulders, “Don’t give in… You can’t step out there, that’s what Trinity wants…”

“A-Alright…” you whispered, Troy’s lips meeting yours. It wasn’t needy like Tyreen, but yearnful, comforting. You kissed him back, a hand on his cheek. He was careful with his mechanical arm, hugging you as he broke away, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Ty and I will be back, just stay put, okay?” Troy begged, worry in his eyes, “Use the console to alert of us anything. I will go find Perseus and Jackal and send them over here.” You nodded, grabbing his arm.

“Be careful… Don’t underestimate Brutus if you see him… I know you can handle the Jesters…” you said, Troy letting go of you, standing up. 

“I will,” Troy gave you a reassuring smile before departing. You hugged yourself in the blanket, wondering if this was a nightmare. 

“It has to be… I’ll wake up soon enough… I’ll wake up soon enough…” you whispered, rocking back and forth.

No rest for the wicked.

\--------00000000--------

Odie’s incessant chatter about you got on Troy’s nerves. Unlike Tyreen, he wasn’t the extreme jealous type, plus, his new right-hand man had a horrible habit on getting on people’s bad side for shits and giggles. The man kept badgering at them to resolve their issues with you once and for all for the sake of the future of the CoV. Besides, Troy was still hurt that you had contacted Master to help kill Donovan.

How despicable, Troy thought.

The day you were captured and brought in, Troy’s little world went upside down, never believing that he’d be falling in love with a plaything – and to boot, you didn’t give a shit about him, maybe his mechanical arm, just not him. He wanted to change that but couldn’t pressure you on anything. 

Especially when one of the culprits of your misery was before him, Tyreen, and the rest of the CoV raid party: The Rat King, the bandit lord of the marshlands. The full-on raid had causalities on both sides, the Calypsos triumphant in subduing the Rat King despite interference on Master who ended up abandoning the bandit. 

“Had your way with her? Didn’t you?” the Rat King said, laughing, “Her skin is soft, scars and all!” Troy punched him, the bandit’s laughter irritating the Calypso further. 

“You haven’t!? AHAHAH-“ Another punch.

Punch.

Punch.

All of Troy’s frustration, anger, resentment, poured out in every punch. Tyreen would heal the bandit lord, allowing Troy to resume his onslaught. She joined him, stabbing and punching the Rat King. 

“We need him alive, hello!” Odie chirped, kicking the Rat King, “Okay, maybe two more punches and that’s it. The faster we get out of here, the better. I need some bleach for what I saw in that damn room.”

The shrine.

The bandit lord’s obsession with you disgusted the Calypsos, Troy feeling ill. A sick obsession.

“Are you two obsessed with her?” Odie asked, returning from Harvest grounds beaten up and bruised from his fight with you. 

/ITS ALWAYS WHAT FATHER TROY WANTS./ He heard your outbursts outside the throne room and saw the mess you left behind, Jackal and Perseus running after you. 

Troy rubbed his face, conflicted. What he felt wasn’t obsession, it was admiration. The Rat King saw you as a piece of meat, something to defile. 

Troy was seeing you as a fellow fighter, mechanic, and ally. You had saved his life. He wanted to repay it by making it better for you in the CoV. 

If only you’d give him a chance. 

“I don’t know about you, Troy, but I already made my decision,” Tyreen said, a determined look on her face. Troy glanced at her, lips thin.

**He did as well, no longer running away.**

\--------0000000000---------

The distant sounds of explosions, gunfire, and shouting managed to penetrate to the underground morgue, your mind succumbing to horrible thoughts. Struggling with the urge to search for the Jesters, Troy ordered for you to remain in the morgue until he or Tyreen came to get you. Banging on the medical table, you screamed, holding your head.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” you yelled, furious. 

Was Cetus toying with you? Was he being smug behind the screen, watching everything go to hell in the CoV hub? 

“You fucking prick! You fucking prick!” you continued yelling, frustrated. You wanted Trinity and the CoV to destroy each other but not like this, this was too soon for your plans. Stringing along the Calypsos was getting stressful for you, Brutus showing up derailing everything.

“Your Majesty.”

You froze, turning slowly to face the entrance of the morgue. Brutus stood there, staring at you with his cold, green eyes. He immediately bowed on both knees, arms postured forward.

“Your Majesty, it is an honor to be in your presence again, I have waited for this day for a long time,” Brutus said, voice hinting relief, “Master has been worried for you.”

“Brutus…” you whispered, your hand trying to reach the gun Troy left behind for you, “S-Sharp nose as always…”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Brutus replied, still bowing.

“Y-You may stand…” you stated, aiming the gun at him. The man obeyed, standing erect.

“The Gladiators send their greetings and wish for your safe return to Master,” Brutus continued, tilting his head, “Unfortunately, they could not accompany me in this mission.”

Tears escaped you, frightened, “T-That’s unfortunate…”

 **The Gladiators.** Trinity’s super soldiers, former bandits enhanced and fitted with the best body mods money could buy, Cetus’ and Winona’s pride and joy, a group that Brutus belongs to.

That you belonged to before.

As their leader.

The Mad Queen.

The little monster screamed for you to escape, the gun in your hands useless against the man standing before you. Even with your gear, you wouldn’t be able to take him on, most likely Brutus having been modified since the last time you fought him in Trinity. You eyed the console, rushing over to try to send an alert. Brutus arm extended out, crushing the console. Screaming, you fell backwards, gasping for air. 

“B-Brutus, you have to leave… now! That’s an order!” you attempted. The man shook his head, expression void of emotion.

“I have my orders, Your Majesty,” Brutus dislocated his jaw, opening it wide. You quickly got up, managing to avoid a long-barbed bone whip from the man’s mouth. He struck again, breaking through the medical table you flipped over. You hissed in pain, the barb striking you on the side.

“Y-You! Damn you!” you shouted, avoiding more attacks. Brutus paced around the room, chasing you around as he kept lashing out the barbed bone whip. He managed to corner you, blocking any chance you had for escape.

Brutus calmly stared at you, voice neutral, “Your Majesty, you mustn’t resist. I was given the strict order to bring you back.”

You held on to the gun, having a difficult time gripping it, “T-To hell with that… I’m not going back to him!” Brutus stepped forward, seeing you flinch. He tilted his head, confused.

“I insist that you let me escort you out of here,” Brutus said, holding out his hand, “The Jesters will take care of this place. You have nothing to worry about.”

“GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD I’M NOT GOING BACK!” you screeched, shooting Brutus. The bullets deflected from the man’s skin. He merely blinked, unfazed.

“It’s taking its effect,” he stated, approaching you.

“W-What is…?” you said, slurring your words, “N-No… please no….” Your arms felt heavy, legs weak as you staggered forward. The little monster yelled, begging for you to stay awake. Panic set in as your eyes struggled to remain open, breathing getting more difficult. A deep, uncomfortable sensation set in on your wounded side.

The man’s barb was laced with a paralyzing agent.

Brutus frowned, “Master dislikes it when we use vulgar language, Your Majesty.”

“F-Fuck you…” you hissed out, holding your side, the wound burning up, “I…” You landed on the ground, curling up, wailing in pain, gun abandoned near you. 

“In a regular fight, you’d overwhelm me. Please forgive me for resorting to such measures,” Brutus said, kneeling down, bowing his head in reverence, “Once we get back, you may pass your judgment.” You weren’t able to respond, paralyzed as Brutus reached to close your eyes.

The world went dark.

\------00000000000------- 

Cetus heard the door to his office open, the man immediately closing off the old video he had been watching from Pietro’s archives regarding the Gorty’s Project. Turning around in his chair, a smile was on his lips when he saw who walked in.

You were wearing a simple, green sleeveless dress with cherry blossoms pinned from the waist to your chest. Your hair was down, framing your face. Scars from your fights and training were visible down your arms and chest. 

“Hello, dear,” Cetus said, “….Late again?” He saw your look of disappointment.

“Yes,” you smiled back, crossing your arms, “Food is getting cold and Blue is upset that her ‘papa’ isn’t joining us for dinner on time.” Cetus chuckled, getting up from his seat, approaching you. Pouting, you put a hand on his face when he tried to kiss you.

“Dear…” Cetus whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Apologize to Blue… I understand you have work and all, but she’s a child. There’s only so much I can tell her,” you said, frowning, “Please promise me you will talk to her. She’s a smart kid, Cetus.”

“I know… I’ll speak to her,” Cetus said, holding your hand, “Let me fix my desk-“

“Now… Your desk will be there when you finish dinner!” you scolded him. Cetus laughed, grinning. You chuckled, allowing him to kiss you. For someone as stoic as Cetus, you had grown to love these moments with him, away from everyone’s eyes.

The relaxed, humorous Cetus. 

“As you wish, my Queen,” Cetus whispered in your ear. You giggled, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from his desk, heading towards the door. Cetus stared at your form, an odd feeling overcoming him. Your shy smile, your quiet laughs, your enthusiastic mood had impacted him from the beginning when he met you.

Now, you were more carefree, loving, nurturing.

He never expected to fall for someone after years of being alone, ‘lonely’ on top of the Trinity. Feared by many, loved by a single person. Circe was only a business marriage, no love between the two of them, divorcing when they finished their business transactions, company mergers and after the birth of Blue.

“I made your favorite dessert, strawberry cheesecake,” you said, smiling at him, “Blue helped me out, but don’t tell her I made an extra one to replace her crazy ingredient version.”

Cetus chuckled, bringing your hand up to kiss it over your silver ring in your right hand, “I promise.”

The engagement ring. 

He found someone worthy to share his spot in Trinity. 

**A King always needs his Queen.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (pterodactyl screeching)
> 
> UGH, finally, :D 70K+ word chapter is done! 
> 
> I’m hoping ya’ll liked getting a glimpse of the twins’ side, the hostile relationship they have with each other and their changing views towards the Reader. As stated before, don’t expect extreme UwU soft loves. There will be cuddles and kisses and all that stuff but remember… they are bandits and have a shitty way of sometimes showing or expressing it. 
> 
> Kudos and comments feed this tiny gremlin! uwu

**Author's Note:**

> This seems like a one-shot, but I left some things hanging within the story. May continue if people are interested.


End file.
